I Wanna Know What Love Is
by PurpleCrimson23272
Summary: Set some few years after the fall of Voldemort, Hermione copes with life after war. She lives with her best friend, Harry, who happened to allow a particular man live in his home. And she may be falling for the git. Hard as hell. But what does he feel? Will they take it to the next level? And if they do, will it end well? Maybe, maybe not. Let's see then, shall we?
1. Ginny's Outburst

**A/N: Okayyy. This is my first ever fanfic AND first ever official story…so yeah.**

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Chapter 1: Ginny's Outburst

Hermione was staring blankly at the garden of The Burrow when she heard the door swing open.

"Hey, Mione. You alright?" Ron asked as he sat beside her, squinting at the garden to see what she was staring at.

"I'm fine, Ron. Thanks," she replied, trying her absolute best to smile sincerely. She appreciated Ron for being caring and considerate, but all she needed right then and there was to be alone. Ron seemed to sense this as he stood from his seat and enveloped her into a comforting hug.

From that simple gesture, Hermione's emotions erupted from her system as she started to sob uncontrollably unto Ron's chest.

"I just c-can't believe I c-couldn't do it, Ron. I miss them so damned much. H-How could this be ha-happening? I thought I could do it, b-but I couldn't!" she managed to say as gut-wrenching sobs escaped her lips.

Ron's hand rubbed small reassuring circles on her back while the other tucked stray brown curls behind her ears. "It's okay, Mione. We'll find a way. I'm here for you, love. Harry and I will help you. Don't worry," he said as he looked into her lovely chocolate brown eyes.

Hermione removed memories of herself from her parents and sent them to Australia before the war for safety measure. Now that the war has ended, and Voldemort was now defeated, she went and searched for her parents. She tried to put back all the memories she had extracted, but to no avail. They do not know her at all. Not even her name, or all the simplest things you could think of about a person you have only met for a while. Hermione took this situation as a failure and only told Harry and Ron. She just couldn't bear to see the looks on her friends' faces as she tells them about it. It just wasn't right, not at all.

She gripped Ron's shirt as she continued to bawl her eyes out and just let all that she felt for the past few months come out. They stayed there for a good fifteen minutes until they heard a familiar call…

"DINNER!" Mrs. Weasley's voice boomed out from inside the house, the jolly tone she used to have before the Bill and Fleur's wedding somehow hiding in the shadows.

At this announcement, Ron quickly got his wand out of his pocket and conjured a spell to erase the tear tracks that covered Hermione's cheeks and any signs of crying.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered before kissing Ron's cheek lovingly. Despite the dim light, Hermione could clearly see Ron's face flush to a light shade of pink.

"Oh, uh…you're welcome," Ron said, leaning down and captured Hermione's lips into his own as his hand went down to the small of her back and held her closer to him. The feel of her soft, warm lips enthralled him and smiled lightly between their lips. The kiss lasted for only a while as the couple still found this awkward considering the majority of the years knowing each other were spent being best friends. They haven't been exactly dating, nor called being together, but their relationship was a wordless thought; they admired each other and the other one enlightened the other, vice-versa.

They both went in The Burrow and were greeted with the smell of Molly Weasley's exceptionally delicious cooking.

"The food smells great, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione complimented, earning a sincere smile and a phrase of gratitude from Molly.

"Yeah, Mum. I feel so happy that the war hadn't affected your cooking. Just as good as always," Ron said, earning a piercing look from Hermione as Molly's face screwed up into a sad expression.

"Thanks, dear," Molly said as she walked away from the two.

"What the hell were you thinking, Ronald? You know how the topic itself upsets her. You needn't make the situation difficult," Hermione hissed.

"Oh, right. I'm sorry," Ron whispered, hoping Hermione would cool down a bit.

Hermione nodded and went to sit down on her place at the table between Harry and Ron while waiting for the others to come. The usual excitement for dinner at The Burrow was now months, maybe even years long gone because of the gloom and sadness for the ones who left and died as heroes. Remus, Tonks , Fred, Sirius, Moody, Dobby, and the others were greatly missed. It took a good three minutes before the people in the house finally went to their respective places for dinner.

They all seemed to have their own agenda at the table. Mrs. Weasley surveyed each one; Mr. Weasley stared at his empty plate; Ginny stared at the ceiling; Percy was slouching; Bill was fidgeting, along with Fleur who seemed too preoccupied at the moment; Charlie stared blankly at the space, his fingers inaudibly drumming against the table; Severus Snape – who joined them ever since his great bravery and loyalty were revealed –was wearing his usual blank expression; Harry seemed to busy himself by staring at the youngest Weasley whom he loved dearly; Hermione somewhat nervously tugging at her brown curls; Ron was looking at his and Hermione's hands entwined under the table; and above all, George, looking broken beyond repair since he lost his twin, his other half, his partner in crime, his beloved brother.

"Alright, let's eat," Mr. Weasley blurted out, trying to break the deafening silence.

Spoons, forks, and knives were lifted from their places, soft murmurs of "Please pass-" were heard and definitely murmured, and the clanking of silverware made up to the blinding silence of The Burrow.

Before dessert was served, Ginny banged her fist angrily at the table and stood up abruptly, causing her chair to topple over as everyone looked at her curiously.

"Okay, this has got to stop immediately. It's driving me insane! Merlin, I'm even surprised I have not yet been brought to St. Mungo's for insanity. This is sickening! All of you, this is bloody sickening! We should all be happy here, you know? We should be celebrating or something for our victory. Not moping around and just acting all dumb and stupid. I mean, what the bloody hell? Sure, many died, including Fred, but do you think he'd be pleased if we go on and live like this? Like…well, like…insane idiots? I mean, come on! He's Fred for Merlin's sake!" Ginny ranted as she stared furiously at the now gaping audience. (But of course, Professor Snape still wore his blank expression, much to Ginny's dismay. That man could never be read.)

Mrs. Weasley rose from the table, forgetting the importance of poise and ran straight to Ginny before enveloping her only daughter into a tight hug.

"Oh, my Ginny. I'm so proud of you. I wholly agree with you," Mrs. Weasley said as tears slid down her face. She turned to the little audience and smiled, a hint of joy present in her eyes. "Ginevra's right, dears. It's about time we try to move on and get on with life because that the best thing to do, and that's probably what our dear friends want."

The small audience nodded in agreement as Mrs. Weasley wiped her tears away.

Mr. Weasley looked at Ginny with great pride and hastily stood up to comfort Mrs. Weasley, who seemed to be on the verge of tears, yet again.

Dinner seemed to go by fast after that, and before she knew it, Hermione was now heading to the couch with her friends to chat a bit. This was very unusual at this time because after the war, they never had a proper conversation. She smiled at the thought of laughing and hanging out with her friends again. She missed all those times.

Hermione saw Professor Snape lounge on the seat farthest from the couch they were on, finally looking thoughtful. She liked how his new expression seemed distant and how his face scrunched up to look as if he smelled something awful. He was clearly thinking of something deeply, or much easier to say, he was deep in thought. Hermione found herself trying to figure out what was in her former professor's mind.

'Merlin!' she thought, "When did I ever want to know what goes on in his head?' she cursed herself silently before she turned to her friends who were conversing with a slightly gleeful atmosphere. She made a mental note to thank Ginny for doing what she just did. Oh, thank Merlin for Ginny!


	2. Confusion

**A/N Took me a while…enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2: Confusion**

It was around 2:00 a.m. when the visitors considered leaving The Burrow and proceed to their respective shelters. Harry, Hermione, and Severus packed up their things and double checked just in case they left anything. They then went and bid the Weasleys adieu. Hermione went to Molly, who enveloped her into a warm hug and kissed her cheek. Then to Arthur, who nodded and hugged her, to Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ginny, Fleur, George, and finally, Ron, who brought her to the kitchen for some privacy.

"I'm going to miss you," Ron said, looking at Hermione sadly.

Hermione chuckled. "We're going to see each other again next week. It's only seven days, Ron. And besides, you can go visit any time, Harry said so himself," she gave him a cheeky grin.

"A week is too long. I shall visit you." Ron whined as he cupped her cheek and wrapped his arms around her waist. He looked into her beautiful chocolate brown eyes and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.

Hermione snaked her arms around his neck and moved her lips with his, kissing him back with all the strength she could muster. The kiss grew fiery, and Ron held her tighter, gripping her to his body. Their movements grew faster and both were aching for something they did not know. He brushed her lower lip with his tongue, begging for entrance. She parted her lips and his tongue darted into her mouth. He explored her mouth, every single detail of it. She tasted of strawberries and mint. He nipped at her lower lip gently and brushed his tongue on it for extra pleasure. Their tongues danced with each other while Ron's hands moved abruptly on her waist, then to her hips, then back again, desperate for something he now knew to be very naughty. Hermione's hands held a handful of his hair with one hand and the other held his nape, pulling him closer to her. She gasped between kisses as she felt his desire press against her. They finally pulled away and held each other at arm's length, trying to catch their breaths.

"That was…wow," Hermione whispered, a small smile playing on her lips.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, our first intimate kiss. Our first snogging session! Oh, Merlin. You taste good,"

"So do you," Hermione blushed, a shocking shade of pink, "Oh, and by the way, your um…your…" she mumbled pointing at the tent in his jeans.

"Right. Blimey, Hermione," Ron said, attempting to cover up the bulge.

"HERMIONE! TIME TO GO!" Harry called from the living room.

"Okay! I'll be right there. Just a sec," Hermione shouted from the kitchen. She turned to Ron, "I must get going. Goodbye, Ron," she kissed his cheek and went out to the apparating spot where Harry and Professor Snape waited impatiently.

She grabbed each man's hand and held on to them as the sucking feeling of apparition and total discomfort overcame them.

They arrived with a crack at 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione desperately rushed to the couch as Harry and Severus watched her slump down on it and groan.

"I'm so sleepy. And exhausted. And I think I'm gonna pass out any minute now," she mumbled just loud enough for the two men to hear, and Kreacher, who appeared just as she said this.

With that said, Hermione was motionless and void of any sign of being conscious.

"Oh, no! Not again! Professor, I believe it's your turn now," Harry said as he turned to Severus who had a look of disbelief written all over his face.

"Potter, I won't bring her to her room as I have _my_ own things to do in _my _room," Severus said, a sneer entrancing his face.

"But sir! We have already agreed on this. You must do you part. Besides, you've done this a couple of times already. I'm surprised you haven't picked up on it yet," Harry said.

Severus breathed out a heavy sigh. The boy agreed to make him stay in his godfather's house in one condition, and that is to take turns in bringing Hermione to her room whenever she passed out after an exhausting time at The Burrow. Well, since he didn't have a place to live in after the war, he had no choice but to agree on the offer. "Very well, Potter. But if she does this all the time, I'd rather myself sleep out on the streets than do this routinely. I have no intentions on making my life harder than it already is," Severus whined.

Harry nodded. "She only does this every Sunday, right after having dinner at The Burrow, you should know that already," he said.

Severus just nodded slightly at this and approached the sleeping figure on the couch. He slid an arm behind her knees, the other on her nape and effortlessly carried her up the stairs to her room. He looked at her peaceful face as he wondered how smooth it felt against his long and lanky fingers.

He reached her room and carefully laid her down on the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She instantly snuggled herself closer to the soft comforter and pulled it higher until it reached just below her lower lip. Severus smiled at this and brushed the pad of his thumb against her cheek. She moaned sleepily at his touch and curled up in a ball, looking so sexy, on Severus' point of view. He couldn't take his eyes off the sleeping figure on the bed. She looked so fragile, so angelic, so…_beautiful_. Severus' sneer wasn't present, but instead a soft smile crept up his thin lips. He shocked himself when he subconsciously tucked some stray brown curls behind her ear. 'Oh for the love of Merlin!' he thought, 'What the hell is happening? What the bloody hell am I doing?' He cursed himself as he silently rushed out of the room.

He went in his room and thought about the girl in the room two rooms beside his and what he just did. It wasn't very acceptable. He shook his head and lay down on his bed, pulling up the covers. He didn't sleep well as he kept thinking of _her._

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Hermione felt herself in warm protective arms, being held softly but firmly. She felt herself being carried up the stairs and into her room, and laid down on the bed. The owner of the warm and protective arms pulled the covers up to her chin, and she snuggled into it, enjoying the comfort it gave. She then felt a light pressure brush against her cheek and instantly moaned in pleasure as she snuggled. In a matter of seconds, she felt her stray curls being brushed lightly from her face then behind her ear. She wanted to snuggle closer to the man in her bed (because it was impossible to be a woman), wanting some human warmth. She forced herself to reach out and hold the person, but her body didn't seem to obey her mind. She just remained motionless as she felt the bed rise and the soft click which meant the person went out, probably exhausted. Feeling tired and worn out herself, she fell into a dreamless sleep…but not before she thought of the man. It was impossible to be Harry; he always left her with a soft kiss on the forehead. It was most probably Severus, but she wasn't sure. This was the first time Severus carried her when she's been conscious enough to feel mild happenings in the conscious world. Perhaps Ron became a little too excited and visited instantly.

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**A/N Reviews are encouraged…hehe. Please? Pretty pleeeeaaase? **


	3. Black and Green What Did It Mean?

**A/N: Hey there! This took a while. I was sorta' busy. I'm terribly sorry. Enjoy the chappie!**

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**Chapter 3: Black and Green; What Did It Mean?**

Black. All black. A man in black walking towards me. Me? Who is this man? Do I know him? I can't quite make out who he is. He's too far away and his face is a blur. Wait, what am I doing? A step, another step, another, more steps. I'm walking towards him, too. it seems that I'm in no control of my legs.

Impatience fills my being and I immediately walk faster. He does too, matching each stride I take, catching up to my pace effortlessly. It's as if we're meant to meet each other. Magnets? I feel an overwhelming urge to run into his arms and hold him. What the hell? What am I doing? Have I gone mad? I don't even know this person…or at least I think I don't. Part of me thinks I do, though. And so I go to him instinctively.

As we near each other, I hear him call out my name. His voice…so beautiful and…familiar? Seriously, who is this beautiful man? I find myself running now. Running to the man I long for. Yes, I must long for this man as I feel very elated to have him running to me. We're only several feet from each other now. Yes, a few more steps, several more feet. This man will be the death of me.

I smile as he matches my strides and try my absolute best to run faster. Wait, hold on. I see green. I see a flash of green light coming from his right. Everything happens so fast; it was all a blur…and his face still remained blurry. Instinctively, I run faster and shout. Yes, just a few more…I'm coming. Before I could take another step, the light hits him squarely on the chest. With this, he looks at me lovingly, presses his fingers to his lips and extends them to me. No, I couldn't take this. I run like a madman and catch him before he falls on the ground beneath us. I hold him there, salty liquid flowing madly from my eyes. I hold him tighter as he cups my cheek weakly. "I love you," he whispers just before his hand slides dead on my lap. "No! No, please don't! Please! Please come back!" I shout. He remains motionless and I start to sob uncontrollably against his chest. As my tears pool his chest, I whisper sweet nothings against his lips, pressing mine on his every now and then, breathing wildly, heart beating rapidly, beating for the two of us.

I let out a strangled cry and shout at the very top of my lungs. I kiss him all over the face and pull down his eyelids so he looked as if he were only sleeping. Very peacefully. The sight of this formed new sets of tears in my eyes. What do I do now? I just want to live here forever, holding him until I die. I don't think my heart could take leaving him here, no it won't. So I just sit there holding him, letting the tears fall. Before I could wipe them off, I hear someone say my name and feel a furious shaking of my shoulder. It wasn't_ my_ man's voice, though it was a man's…but someone else's…not _his. _Although it was very familiar, too.

"Hermione, Hermione!" I hear as the furious shaking of my shoulder continues. With this, the beautiful man in my arms disappears out of thin air. "NO! Come back! Please! I need you," I say through stifled sobs. Then all was black. Pitch black.

I woke up with a start and sat up. "Gah!" I gasp as bright light greets my eyes. I sit there squinting and taking in my surroundings. I'm in a bedroom. No, _my_ bedroom…at Grimmauld Place. I put up my hand to rub my eyes and try to get rid of the drowsiness and stopped the movement when it brushed past my cheek. It's wet, why the bloody hell is it wet? I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand as I hear a throat clearing from my left. I turned to my left and was immediately greeted with emeralds. Emeralds? What? I rub my eyes again. They weren't emeralds, no. I was greeted with green eyes.

"Harry?" I say, still rubbing my eyes as everything was quite blurry and salty liquid still stained my cheeks.

"Yeah?"

"What happened?"

"I dunno. You were thrashing in your sleep. I had to wake you up. And besides, it's 10 a.m. Time to get up!" he said as he pulled the covers out of my reach.

"HARRY!" I shouted as I tried to get the covers from him.

He chuckled. "Alright, 'Mione. But you have to go down now. Snape made breakfast."

"Snape made breakfast?" I gasped.

"Yeah, and he isn't a very patient man."

"Right. Just give me a minute, I'll change into something decent," I say as I glanced at my outfit. My eyes widened at what I saw. A purple shirt I borrowed from Ginny and my baby pink knickers with cute little hearts. "Wait, why am I in my knickers? Er, I mean, why am I in my shirt _and_ knickers _only?_"

"Oh, uh…I honestly don't know. Snape went here first. He heard you shouting and tried to calm you. When you didn't stop, he called me, then, well, here I am. So ask _him_. Wait, what was all the shouting about anyway?" he babbled

"SNAPE REMOVED MY BOTTOMS? MERLIN'S BEARD!"

"I'm not sure if that's exactly what happened. Now, why were you shouting?"

"Um…bad dream. Although I don't remember anything significant. I only remember black…and green."

"Black and green? What? Were you dreaming of…perhaps, your wedding? In the future, I mean. The women wear green and the men wear black? And if Ron were the lucky guy I'm sure there'd be maroon…and it was a bad dream 'cause Ron was late or he forgot his vow. Or both," he smirked.

I snorted. "Very funny, Harry. I'm pretty sure it wasn't a wedding. I think you spend too much time with Ginny. You talk a lot like her already. It gives me the creeps. Your sense of humor still sucks, though. You should hang out with Fred and George more often so you can pick up at least a ray of their humor. But…oh…" I stopped mid-sentence as I remembered a very vital thing: Fred's gone. He's…dead. I gulped at the thought. Sorrow flashed in Harry's eyes.

"Damn! I'm so sorry, Harry! I forgot. It's just that…it's…well, it seems so normal now and I feel like…I don't know. It feels like there wasn't even any war to begin with…like nothing's wrong, nothing ever happened." I rambled.

He gives me a look, almost thoughtful. "…yet you were having a nightmare." He says.

"I don't think it's of that sort. Y'know, the er…'war sort'. I don't really remember. It was quite vague. Just black and green."

"Black and green, then add maroon," He smirked. Of all the times we've seen Malfoy smirk, he must've picked the habit up. And I must say, he's got one badass smirk right there.

"What, so we're now in Christmas colors?"

"Yeah, you know…black-Snape, Snape-black. OH, SHIT! That was disturbing." he shivers.

"Why?" I asked, confused.

"Because it sounds like Snape married Sirius!" He shouted, looking absolutely terrified.

I laughed. "Oh, Harry." With that said, a knock sounded on the door, and the voice of my former professor boomed in. "Potter, Granger, I'd like to eat now, and if you have no plans on it, then just say so, so I won't wait for you to finish your little chit-chat." He said in one whole breath.

Harry and I turned to each other. He smiled, I smiled, and I think I saw a hint of mischief gracing his features. I turned to the door. "Go ahead, Sir. I'll be down in a minute. Harry here was just heading out. Right, Harry?" I said as I pushed Harry towards the door.

"Right. I was just doing that." He said, opening the door to an impatient-looking man with greasy jet black hair wearing black robes, black shoes, black everything. His expression changed, though, when the door opened just enough for him to see me. He quickly looked at his side and muttered a bunch of profanities.

I rolled my eyes. Huh. Typical Snape. Now, don't get me wrong. I know he's a good guy. A very good guy. Though he doesn't have the best attitude. Or he doesn't show his real attitude. Ugh. Is that too much to ask? Just a bit of kindness? Only a liiiittle bit? Psh. "Why, Sir, may I ask, are you in such a bad mood on a very lovely day? Good morning to you, too." I shot at him.

He smirks, still facing the side. "Why, Miss Granger, I am sure any man who sees a woman in only her underwear would feel uncomfortable, to say the least. Yes, good morning."

My eyes grow wide at this and I feel my cheeks grow hot. "Oh…well then, I am terribly sorry, Sir. I'll be getting decent now." I said, and then turned to Harry, who was standing there with an amused expression. Gosh. The urge to slap the hell out of him was floating 'round the corners of my mind. "Harry, go on. I'll change. Shoo!" I smiled as I pushed him further out and closed the door. I leaned on it and released a breath I never knew I was holding. Damn Snape. Damn knickers. Ugh. Where are my bottoms?

And then I found them, dangling at the right side of my bed, almost mockingly. Like, "NENENENE! SNAPE SAW YOU IN YOUR UNDERWEAR!" Tut. I muttered a quick spell and the shorts instantly disappeared from its previous spot and reappeared where it's supposed to be. I stop in front of the bathroom and feel comforted by the sight of the shower. Hmm…it wouldn't hurt to have a quick bath, would it? Yeah, I guess I'll be having one. Besides, Snape shouldn't give a shit about what I am supposed to do or when I am supposed to do it. Bugger him. Moody greasy-haired git. Ugh.

I took a quick shower (Mind you, I made sure I was clean. Hermione Granger kind of clean) and dried my hair with a spell, adding volume to my slightly tamed bush. I then settled for a white blouse which hugged my figure, and a pair of short shorts Ginny gave me. I looked at the mirror and smiled lightly. Not very Hermione-ish, but I guess I could try new stuff once in a while. For some reason, I feel the need to apply a bit of makeup. Just a teeny weeny bit. I snatch for my foundation and wiped the pad on my face, applied a bit of blush-on, just so I won't look so pale like those vampires in the muggle movies and books called Twilight (though, I must say, they look quite beautiful), dabbed peach-colored lip gloss on my lips, and voila! There goes my natural look. Time to head downstairs! As I half-jump, half run down the stairs, I smell myself as the air passes just below my nose. Mmmm, vanilla. Now, _that's_ me. Oh, better focus on the steps. I might get all clumsy and slip. Eh? What am I talking about? I'm HERMIONE GRANGER for crying out loud.

As I reach the last flight of steps, the scene in the living room shocked me to death. Oh, Merlin. Could this be…? Oh my…I can't believe it. My eyes begin to water and my vision becomes blurry because of the tears. Oh, Merlin, help me.

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**A/N: Sooo...how was it? I'd love your input, even if I only have very few readers. If it's not too much to ask, please take a minute and write a review. It'd boost up my motivation to update. I have the whole plot planned out already, so please give this story a shot. (this is my first) I really want to know people here so I won't have to act and talk all formal. I wanna have fuuun with y'all, get to know you, and stuff like that. Thank you! I'm looking forward to the reviews. :)**


	4. Legs and Thoughts

**A/N: Yay! Chappie 4! Oh, I'd like to thank Amberhottie, RebeccaTwinTyler, and akobuday for the kind reviews. You might see akobuday's review and think, 'Oh, gosh, she's crazy.' Well, she is, and yeah, she's a girl, and yeah, I know her, and yeah she spoke Filipino (sorta) so some of you might not understand, but yeah...anyway, on with the chappie!**

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**Chapter 4: Legs and Thoughts**

My eyes slowly open. It was a dream. That Granger girl. Me. Hit by the Killing Curse. She was kissing me. Hermione…oh, fucking hell. The dream was vague, but I remember the vital parts. She was blurry there, but I knew it was her. I just knew it. That was a rather—shall I say—peculiar dream. Should I be afraid? Cautious? Malicious? Wait, why did I say I love her? Am I insane? Fucking hell. It was just a stupid dream.

I look at the clock and grunted at the time…4 a.m. There, an hour before my usual wake-up time. Potter should be up at six. He planned this whole thing…this whole party thing for Miss Granger. It's her birthday today and I don't even think she knows. How old is she, anyway? Twenty-one? Twenty- two? Well, it's been three years since the fall of Voldemort (may he rest in agony and despair), so I'm guessing twenty-one. Umph. Why should I care? I only need to cook breakfast, that's it. I'll be off to Merlin-knows-where to just stay away from Grimmauld Place. With all these nosy idiots, I think I'd die of irritation. My life has always been boring. If only Lily…aw, hell. No. Not now, you emotional twat. Since I have nothing to do, I guess I can snooze for a bit. I close my eyes and unconsciousness gradually swallows me.

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I wake up and check the clock. 8:47 a.m. Ah, I should be getting ready.

I get out of bed and take a shower. Still drenched to the toe, I open the closet and pulled out a white muggle polo and muggle jeans. I also grab my signature black robe for special effects.

9:30

As I go out of my room, I hear faint noises from Herm—Granger's room. I continue to head to the stairs, but when she doesn't stop shouting, I decide against heading to the awaiting kitchen. I cautiously approach her door and lean in in attempt to press my ear against the smooth wood. She seems oblivious to the idea that someone might here her cries. But maybe she _is _really oblivious. Maybe she's having a nightmare or something.

"Miss Granger, are you…quite all right there?" I say.

No answer. But I can still hear her whines.

"Miss Granger?" I say and add a knock on the door.

Still no answer. Hmm…curious.

Without thinking, I open the apparently unlocked door and catch the sight of Hermione Granger, twitching, stirring madly, and chewing on her lower lip. She was also without bottoms. I flicked my eyes to the right side of the bed. There, dangling about, were her forgotten shorts.

It came so slow that I wanted to slap myself repeatedly. Without thinking ahead, my eyes travel back to her cringing figure and land on her legs. _Creamy, translucent, beautiful legs that one has. _The light out the window gave extra emphasis on her bones, making her legs look glazed with oil. I subconsciously licked my lips. _Oh, Merlin, help me._

Forcing myself to ignore her _creamy, luscious—shut up, Severus!_ As I said, forcing myself to ignore her ahem…legs, I approach her still stirring figure and try to rouse her—to no avail. I try several more times, still to no avail. After a few more tries, I gave up. You could shout at this woman's ear for Merlin-knows-how-long, and still fail to the core.

I go out and head down the stairs. Potter's there, decorating with the Weasleys and everyone else from the Order. Ah, exactly. The first birthday party in three years should be special, says them. Well then, I better start cooking.

As I pass by them on my way to the kitchen, they greet me, and I just nod faintly. Wait, I almost forgot something.

"Potter," I say, and he turns to me, "Miss Granger's…disturbed upstairs. She's making lots of noises."

However, it wasn't Potter who responded, but the Weasley girl.

"EEEE!" she squeals. "Mione's up?"

I roll my eyes inwardly. "No, Miss Weasley. Like I said, she's disturbed at the moment. I think she's having a bad dream." _No, Severus. Too long. You should be a man of few words_, my mind says.

"Oh," she says. Then she turns to Potter. "Harry, is it okay if I go up and check on her?"

The boy shakes his head. "No, Gin. She'll start suspecting. Especially since you're wearing a dress too fancy for…say, a "casual visit", don't you think? I'll go and check on her instead. I haven't dressed yet, anyway."

The girl nods. "All right."

Potter then wipes his hands on the front of his jeans and heads up the stairs.

I sigh inwardly. Now, to the awaiting kitchen. Molly Weasley is supposedly the one to help me today, so I guess the job will be done and over with in no time.

"Oi, Severus." I hear and turn to the voice.

"Draco," I acknowledge, "You're up for later, then?"

"Yep," he says. "Now tell me why we should be here for the Mudblood's birthday."

"Shut up, Draco. We can just stay until she blows the hell out of her candles and I promise you, we'll head there already." I say.

"You better be sure." He sneers.

_Why should I be his godfather?_ I groan inwardly. "Yes."

After this party, or at least the early parts of it, Draco and I will head to Spinner's End, my...er, house (if you can still call it that) and try to fix the mess the fucking Death Eaters left. And I'm telling you, they didn't leave much.

For the hundredth time: _Now, to the awaiting kitchen…_

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**A/N: It's a wee bit short, yeah, but I just wanted to clear the "SNAPE REMOVED MY BOTTOMS?" scenario...and I wanted to take a peek in our dear sweetheart's mind 'cause he's got a pretty mind, that Severus. Lol x) Thoughts? I'd love a review. Or two. Okay, you got me. Maybe three. Ten? Hehe, just kidding. But yeah, if it's not too much, take an itsy bitsy second and review, if you please. Thanks!**

**xo,**

**Nixie ;) **


	5. Slutty but Modest

**A/N: *awesome background music* I now present chappie five of ****I Wanna Know What Love Is****. Thanks to all the kind reviews for chapter 4. So much appreciation here. And I so love the new thingie for the reviews. Yayy. I can actually approve. Yayy. Again. Okay, so I dedicate this chapter to my best friend and twin sister (in our little fantasyland), Twihardforlife, who had her birthday recently. Love you, girly! Now, without further adieu, the chappie…**

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**Chapter 5: Slutty but Modest**

"Happy 21st Birthday, Hermione!" They shout.

I gasp. Oh my goodness. Almost everyone I know is here. Even the slimy git, Malfoy. They have extended the living room and made it have a club kind of aura, I'm not sure. Dim colorful lights, a long table of food, drinks, a dancefloor, beanbags everywhere, and a table full of presents. And everyone was in their formal attire. Merlin. I didn't even know it was my birthday. I thought it's only been months since the war. Aw, hell. Twenty-first? Fucking hell!

Tears fall down from my eyes as I hug each one of them. The last two people were none other than Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape. I managed to take a step closer to Malfoy and wrap my arms around him._ Pretend he's nice. Pretend he was never a bully._ He pats my back with one hand, and I let go.

"Why, hello there, Granger. Nice legs." He smirks as his blue-grey eyes traces up and down my legs.

Oh, shit. May I slap him? "Hey, Malfoy. Lovely eyes." And it's true. He has beautiful eyes.

He seemed taken aback at this, but he hides it quickly. "Thanks." He says, and winks. I hear Ron growl from somewhere.

I smile.

Next: Snape. Um, yes. It would be quite unfair to leave him hug-less while everyone received one, so I muster half of my Gryffindor courage, stepped closer to him, and hugged him. The feeling was surprisingly pleasant, albeit awkward. He smelled of sandalwood, mint, and fresh parchment. Oh my gods. The man smells intoxicating.

He pats me with one hand like Malfoy did, and I let go and stare at his black orbs. He does, too. There's this tension I feel stirring inside of me. I don't know what to do with it, so I just ignore it and address them all as a whole.

"Oh, you lot! You shouldn't have! Thank you so much. I didn't even know it was my birthday. I thought it has only been months since…you know. But yeah, I guess—with the mourning and all that—it feels like it just happened months ago." I say. Fuck. I'm rambling.

They all (except Malfoy and Snape) smile genuinely. Then Ginny in her crimson dress practically hauls me from her place.

"Okay, Harry. She said everything she wanted to say. Now, may I?" she tells Harry, one hend gripping my forearm.

"Fine, Gin. But be good." He says.

So there I stood, looking all stupid and clueless as to what Ginny and Harry were referring to, and I just said, "Huh?"

"You, Hermione, are going to receive my present for you upstairs, and when you come down, I swear, you're going to look absolutely stunning, gorgeous, hot, irresistible, and sexy. You'll have the men's cocks standing proudly." Ginny says.

_OH, SHIT! Ginny!_ She just humiliated me in front of almost _all _the people I know. My cheeks heat up, and I bet they're as red as a ripe tomato. Oh, gods.

"GINNY!" I whisper-shouted, while Mrs. Weasley yelled at her.

Ginny, on the other hand, simply winks. Huh. Some nerve.

She hauls me up the stairs and into my bedroom. Carrying a gift—no doubt for me—in red wrapping paper and a delicately styled gold ribbon. I have a weird feeling something not Hermione Granger-ish is inside.

Ginny throws me the gift, and I catch it, examining it, shaking it, and guessing what's inside.

"What the bloody hell are you waiting for? Open it!"

I glare at her testily and untie the ribbon, tore through the wrapping paper ever so slowly, to torture her.

"MIONE! C'mon! _Faster!_" she says, exasperated and ecstatic at the same time.

I obliged and ripped the paper. Next was the box, taped on each side. I smile secretly. Ooooh, now I have an excuse to lengthen the time for opening the gift that I'm pretty sure I will dislike. So I rip the tape off, ever so slowly.

Profoundly piqued, Ginny grabs the box from me and starts tearing the cover off like a madman. I give her an amused expression and look inside the box.

A dress. Damn. It's beautiful. Well the color and the cloth are beautiful per se, I'm not sure if the dress itself is.

Purple chiffon with delicate folds and wrinkles, a matching purple lining, a silk purple band for the waist, and when caught in the light, the chiffon shines a sharp electric blue or indigo.

Ginny hands me the present, and I pick up the dress and unfold it. Oh, gods. It's gorgeous, but…

"Gin, this is—"

"Beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, hot, the most beautiful dress you've ever seen, and I'm such a lovely friend?" she suggests.

"Well, yeah, Gin. Thanks. It's not that I don't like it. It's just…" I couldn't finish the sentence. I have to find a good comeback. Oh, never mind. She saves me herself.

"—the sluttiest dress you've ever seen?" she suggests again.

Great. She mirrored my thoughts. The damnable dress is absolutely gorgeous, but…Merlin, it's definitely too bantam for my liking. I hold it up and turned it so that the back part was facing me. Shit! The thing's practically backless. Umph. How do I confront Ginny? I chew on my lip like it's my oxygen.

She smiles idiotically. "Don't worry. It'll look modest once you wear it. Try it on!"

"Alright." I say, hiding my grimace. I strip to my undies and slide the dress to my body. Ginny squeals. I look at the mirror and gasp. It was gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. The slightly puffy sleeves reached my elbows, the neckline was perfectly curved (although you can see my cleavage. Sucks.), and my whole back was exposed. The. Whole. Back. The exposition stopped just above my tailbone. The dress hugged my figure. My waist, my hips. And the chiffon flowed down halfway to my knees. Then I noticed the lining. It was a soft purple. So beautiful. I almost looked sexy. But me? Sexy? Fucking hell, no. Not in a million years and more. But Ginny's right. It does look quite modest now that I'm wearing it. I turn to her. She was still smiling like an idiot. I throw myself at her and hug her with all my might.

"Thank you, Ginny! Thank you!"

She giggles and hugs back. "You're welcome, Hermione. But there's more." She says as she gestures to the box seated primly on my bed.

I check inside. Oh, there _is _more. Shoes. The same purple as the dress. The heels were about five inches high. Oh, gods. How am I supposed to walk with _those_?

Ginny, seemingly aware of my incapability to walk with heels, quickly said, "I've charmed it to make the wearer comfortable. You won't feel anything. Don't worry; you won't trip or slip or whatever tragic thing you might do. It'll be like wearing flip-flops."

Oh. What a relief. "Thanks, Gin." I say as I wear the shoes. Mmmm, it does feel good. I turned to the mirror again. I looked absolutely stunning. But my hair…

Ginny chuckles. "Your hair. You're worried about your hair. I'll fix that for you. And your makeup."

The girl can read minds. Or maybe she knows me too much already. Am I that predictable?

"Okay." I say.

She conjures a chair in front of the mirror and sits me on it. She starts with my hair. One swish of her wand layer by layer and my hair goes from crazy curls to soft, bouncy ones. She then does complicated stuff with her wand and the curls somehow twisted at the back. I think it's what you call 'French Twist'. Yep, that's the one. She leaves some curls dangling, framing my face. A little adjustments on the said curls, and she's done with my hair. She then moves on to my makeup. She applies foundation on my face and snatches my peach-colored lip gloss from my bedside table and dabs it on my lips. She plucks at my eyebrow, swiped peach and light brown eye shadow on my lids, and finishes with a pinkish cinnamon blush-on to accentuate my cheekbones.

I stare at the woman in the mirror, mesmerized. My face looked very natural. Better than what I call my 'natural look'. And my hair. Ah, leave it to Ginny to make you look perfect. I stood up and examined myself closer. Oh my gods. I don't look at all like myself. It's like the Yule Ball all over again.

"Ginny, I—" I stammer. I am utterly speechless. She sprayed perfume on me. Vanilla.

"Alright, Mione. You look stunning. Now come on down and knock them off their feet."

I take one last look at myself, snatch diamond earrings from the drawer, and follow her out of the room and down the stairs. Then they saw me. They all stop dead on their tracks and stare at me, openly gaping. And yes, Malfoy and Snape, too. It took quite a while for all of them to recover.

"Mione, you look beautiful." Ron says.

George wolf-whistles.

Lavender Brown and the Patil twins squeals.

Harry was utterly speechless.

Mrs. Weasley had a rather thick film of tears in her eyes.

To summarize all their reactions, it's safe to say that they're mesmerized, just like I was. I smile at them genuinely and look at Ginny. She was smiling idiotically, looking at me.

"HA! I'm the best stylist_ ever!_" she declares.

Hmm…maybe she is.

* * *

**A/N: There. It was actually longer, but it was so long, so I decided to cut it here. And the dress. I dunno, I came up with it in the middle of the night. I usually get ideas at night. I'm useless at day. Can you picture it? The dress, I mean? I hope so. Anywho, thanks for reading! Again, a shoutout to Twihardforlife. Belated happy birthday, sissy! And just something random: I refuse to say the name of the Lord in vain, so I just go with "gods"…hehe. Oh, and don't worry. This fic is totally SS/HG. Interactions with Draco are for the *cough* sequel *cough* ;) Next installment will be up anytime this week, I'm not sure. I won't make any promises, but hang in there. Hey, I luurrrrve reviews. Everybody does. So please? Should I sound more desperate? No? Okay.**

**xo,**

**Nix ;)**


	6. Snogging and Candles

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the canon characters. The plot and Tiffany Garfield are the only stuff I own. And this might be the first and last time I will write this for this fanfic.**

**A/N: I don't have anything to say, I'm afraid. Just enjoy the chap, that's all. :)**

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** Chapter 6: Snogging and Candles**

"All right, the sexy birthday girl is here. Now, let's get this party started!" Lee Jordan shouts along with George Weasley. "As some of you may know, Lee and I will host this event." George says.

He sounds happy. For real.

"Before we start this whole thing, I'd like to say Happy Birthday to our sexy bitch." Lee says, and then turns to me. "Happy Birthday, Hermione! Wanna shag?"

I hear Ron growl from my right, and I reach for his hand.

"Thanks, Lee, for the greeting. And for the invitation, no thanks. I'd rather not." I say and entwine my hand with Ron's and rub soothing circles on his knuckles with the pad of my thumb.

Lee frowns. "Aw, I'm utterly wounded." He says as he dramatically lifts his hand to his chest.

"Okay, let's start. Like every 'kiddie'…" George smirks at me. "…party, we'll have a few games. Everyone will join. _Everyone_." He says.

"Right you are, Georgey-boo." He winks at George playfully. "Our first game is called _Snog in the Dark_.

I hear people mutter strings of profanities.

"The mechanics: this whole place will be dark—like, dark-you-won't see a thing—and you are _required_ to snog the first person you come in contact with._ Snog, _people—don't just give a peck. You've got to _snog _to the point that the next thing you want is to _shag_. Got it? Rule breakers will be stunned for the rest of the party which will end at approximately fourteen hours. Are we clear?" George says.

We nod hesitantly.

"Oh, and our sexy bitch is not exempted from the games and the punishments." Lee says.

"Okay, let's do this." George says as he flicks his wand and everything goes pitch black. "Spread out, everybody, and turn in place for five seconds. Remember, those who disobey will be stunned for the rest of the party, and you must know that we will immediately know who cheats."

I let go of Ron's hand and move a teensy bit further. Judging by the sounds, the others are spreading out, too.

"You will start moving on three, and just a recap: snog the very first person you come in contact with. On three. One, two, three, _GO!_" That was George.

Fucking hell. Gah. I take small steps to my right, where I assume Ron might be. But since I turned in place, I'm not sure. There, itsy bitsy steps.

I'm about to take a few more steps, but I bump into someone. I inhale the person's scent. Sandalwood, mint, and fresh parchment. _Shit! It's Snape! Fucking shitty hell! _I consider moving to a different direction, but I do _not _want to be stunned on my own birthday party, so with all the Gryffindor courage I can muster, I grasp his shoulders, close my eyes, and pull him down for a kiss…er, snog.

He stiffens when our lips brush against each other, but I move mine against his anyway. _Mmmm...so soft._ He responds after a while and moves his lips with mine; matching the steady rhythm I have started. Oh, gods. I am intoxicated by him—or his lips, at least.

I don't know where I got the nerve to do so, but I nip lightly on his lower lip. He moans softly, and I get so turned on and move my hands up to transfer them at the back of his neck. He seems encouraged by this, as he lifts his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer. I give him a soft moan, and he moves his lips faster and harder. _Oh, dear Merlin._ I match his ministrations and hold on to his hair. The feeling was entirely new; not like the ones I had with Ron. Not even close to close. And so I give in to the overwhelming sensation…to the feeling, to the kiss, to him. He brushes his tongue on my lower lip, begging for entrance. I willingly part my lips and he slides his tongue into my mouth. _Ah, sweet blissful oblivion._ My tongue does the same, exploring his mouth. Aw, hell. He tastes abso-fucking-lutely wonderful. Our tongues waltz and almost immediately move to an upbeat rhythm. I massaged his tongue thoroughly with mine.

It is getting rough. We have already exceeded the game's requirements. But, hell, I don't care. This is thoroughly enjoyable. He pulls me closer—if that's even possible—rather roughly and tightens his hold on my waist. I return the gesture by lightly pulling a handful of his hair. A growl rumbles deep in his chest as he moves his hands up to my hair and tangle them in it. He then moves forward, bringing me with him. I feel my back hit the wall and sigh as he lifts me up. Oh, gods, I'm soaking wet. I feel his completely erect member nudge between my thighs and I grind my hips to his. He moans and grinds back.

_Fucking hell._ I want him. I want him to take me right now. One of his hands massages its way to my inner thigh. He groans as he feels the hot moisture radiating from me. I grind harder at his desire and sigh wantonly. _Mmmmmm…_

We continue our ministrations for Merlin-knows-how-long. I hear small gasps, a few glasses shattering, and a growl. Suddenly, he pulls back roughly, and I open my eyes and gape. No, he did not pull back. He was shoved by Ron, who looked utterly furious. His face was too red for his own good. I study my surroundings. Oh, shit. The lights are on already, and the guests were looking at me and Snape with terrified expressions. Snape. Fucking hell.

I clear my throat and search for words from my suddenly limited vocabulary. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was finished already." I say as I look at George and Lee who were as shocked as the rest.

"Um…no, it's fine." Lee stammers.

I bite my lip. Dear gods. This is abso-fucking–lutely embarrassing. I stare at Snape. He was visibly panting, looking at me with alert eyes. he regains his composure and stands straight.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger. If you don't mind, I will leave now." He says as he grabs Malfoy, who was staring at me with dark eyes. His once blue-grey once were now stormy grey.

Without even letting me reply, Snape barges out of the place and disapparates with Malfoy.

But I do mind. I do mind if he leaves. Oh, shit. What the fuck is happening to me? I move out of my trance and search the rather big audience for Ginny or Harry. Anyone but Ron. Gods. Ron. He's theoretically my boyfriend. Aw, hell.

I spot Ginny and gestures for her to come to me. She obliges.

"Ginny, please help me. _Please._" I whisper.

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, Hermione. Hold on a sec." she whispers back. "Um. Hey, everybody. Hermione and I will have a little, uh…girl talk. We'll be back in a jiffy." That's Ginny, to the guests.

As she leads me to the stairs, Ron grabs my arm. "Mione…"

He doesn't continue, but I can see everything in his eyes; it breaks my heart.

"Ron, I'm sorry. We'll talk later." I say as I kiss his cheek and follow Ginny up the stairs, to my bedroom.

She shuts the door, casts a Muffliato, and sits us both on the bed.

"Hermione Jean Granger. What the bloody hell just happened there?" she snaps.

"Gin, it was just a stupid game. And I do not want to be stunned on my own birthday party. It's just not reasonable, even for me." I shoot back.

"I know, Mione, but this is _Snape_ we're talking about. You were on the verge of fucking _Snape_. Oh, fucking Snape." She says as she paces back and forth from the end of the room to the other.

I sigh. "Ginny. It was just a game. It was for the game. Nothing more. And besides, I'm with your brother.

"That is going to be a problem. Ron is going to be a problem. He is always a problem. Stubborn frog, he is. Total wanker." She mutters.

"Uh-huh," I mumble. And I start thinking about it. It's true. Ron's a problem, a stubborn frog, and a total wanker. Umph. I hope I go through this day. "Hey, Gin? Can we put a halt to the games now before something rash happens? Please? Tell Lee and George."

"I'm not sure with those two. Why don't you just ask them for your exemption?" she suggests.

"Right, okay. Thanks, Gin."

"You're welcome. Let's go back there before someone gets too excited and destroys the door." She says as she pulls me out and down.

I smile at the guests. They still seem to be speechless.

"I'm sorry for the little interruption there. We may now proceed, but I would like to be exempted from the games." I turn to Lee and George, who were looking at me like I grew horns for ears. "Is that all right?"

"Sure," they reply.

A light smile caresses my features. "Thank you." I say. They nod.

I take a seat on a purple beanbag, similar to the color of my dress. The dress is still in good condition, thank Merlin. Someone sits on a beanbag near mine, but I refuse to acknowledge. So I just watch the others play a couple of games and ignore the person on the beanbag. But I can't ignore the fact that he's staring daggers at me. I still choose to ignore. I have a feeling he's Ron. I don't want to argue right now.

I think of Snape—his oh so soft lips and very talented tongue. Oh, gods. What shall I do? I have just snogged my former potions professor. It doesn't sound nice at all. It sounds absolutely sickening. Why did I even put up with it?

* * *

They're finally finished with the games, and Lee calls me for a surprise.

"I'll give you a blindfold first," he says,

"OI! DO NOT TOUCH HER HAIR. YOU CANNOT DO ANYTHING THAT WILL RUIN HER HAIR. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? I SWEAR, IF YOU DO, I WILL HEX THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF YOU!" Ginny shouts, utterly furious.

"Chill, love. Are you a witch or not?" he tells Ginny with a smirk.

Ginny growls and charms my hair so it won't get messed up.

Lee blindfolds me with his necktie and guides me someplace else.

"Now, sexy, I will remove the tie and you're free to gape. Then maybe we could have a good shag. How's that sound, huh?" He whispers in my ear, his breath tickling it as he nibbles lightly on my earlobe. I shove him, and he chuckles. "Relax, love." He says as he unties the blindfold.

There, in front of me, was the most beautiful cake I have ever seen. It looked like a collage of all the adventures of Harry, Ron, and me. Little figurines of Hogwarts, the Marauder's Map, the Deathly Hallows, the tent, the Sword of Gryffindor, fallen horcruxes, everything. I do exactly what Lee said. I gape.

"This is… Oh, gods. It's beautiful! Thank you!" I say.

"Aw, bitchy-boo. You're welcome! Now, what about the shag? Let's get a room. Your place or mine? Lee smirks.

I hear Ron growl, and I slap Lee's arm playfully. He chuckles. Hell, the man is insufferable.

"Absolutely no shagging." I say.

Okay, I guess it's time for the most essential part of the birthday party: the blowing of candles. There, in the middle of the cake was the figure of the number 21, standing proudly. They all sing the happy birthday song as I lean down and blow the candles. I make a wish before fully extinguishing the small fire emanated by the candle. _I wish something interesting will happen this year—something that will change a part of me, or the whole me. I want to know something I do not already know. I want something special—something I would die for to have. _And then I completely got rid of the small orange flame.

"Time for the gifts! But of course, I have already given mine." Ginny says, a little too enthusiastically.

I open each of their gifts. Most of them were books, quills, jewelry, and some cash. Lee and Geprge give me their present, and I start opening. _Ooooh, a book._ Wait. Geoge and Lee? A book? The world has gone mad. I tear the wrapper off completely and stare at the cover.

"HOLY FUCKING MOTHER OF GODRIC! What the hell is this supposed to mean?" I shout, flabbergasted.

"Well, we know you like books, so _ta da!_" George says.

"This book? Um…thanks. I guess." Fucking hell with more hell. It's the latest book of Tiffany Garfield, _Shagging 101_. She's the most famous witch author on sex—everything about sex. From tips to demos. Oh, gods. The two of them will pay for this humiliation.

They smirk and wink. _The nerve._

Harry handed his gift, and I start tearing off the wrapper. A book. Again. I hope it isn't naughty.

I flip the book over and check the cover._ Made for You by Hermione Granger_. Hermione Granger?

"OH MY GODS, HARRY!" I squeal as I fling my arms around him. "Thank you so so so so so so much. Harry! I love you so much! You know that, right?" I say as tears run down from my eyes. He did it. He published the book I have just finished writing, _Made for You_. Gods. I am ecstatic. This is what I do for a living now. I write books. I write to my heart's content. I wrote _Shadows _first, and then this.

"You're very welcome, Mione." He says as he hugs me with equal strength.

* * *

It is now 11:57 p.m., and half of the guests from earlier have proceeded to their homes, the remaining ones are either tipsy or dancing—or both.

I stare at the red liquid in my glass. I haven't gone through halfway with it yet, as I am not very fond of alcoholic beverages. So I just sit there and watch the pissed people, snogging people, giddy people, and sleeping people.

* * *

_2:40 a.m._ No more guests. No more Harry, no more Ginny. Not anyone. I suppose Harry and Ginny wanted to have good shag someplace else. I head to the kitchen to have a glass of water. When I went in, though, I was not alone.

"Ron," I greet the ginger-haired man and give him a hug. He reeks of Firewhiskey and puke. "Ron, you're drunk."

"Yep, I am. Bloody fantastic, eh?" he says as he wraps his arms around my waist. "Hey, Ermykneeee. I've got a present for you."

And he reaches inside his pocket as his blue eyes darken.

* * *

**A/N: Ooooh, what's with ickle-Ronniekins? Hihi... See? Told you there'd be more SS/HG interaction. Thoughts? Review, please. It helps a lot.**

**xo,**

**Nix ;)**


	7. Infinite

**A/N: Hello! Umph. I'm sorry for the uber LOOOOONG wait. Really. Sorrysorrysorrysorry. I'm gonna go for stupid honesty: I read instead of write. 20 books (or more. I lost count, okay?), tops. THE FIFTY SHADES TRILOGY! Oh my. Who fell in love with Christian Grey? C'mon, I wanna hear some Mrs. Greys out there! I'm a Mrs. Grey, too! *squeals* Give me a minute; I'm fangirling…**

**Okay, finished! Where were we? Oh yes, the chapter. Here, here…**

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**Chapter 7: Infinite**

I drum my fingers on my knee and stare at the staircase. The people around me make a fuss out of the decorations and their clothing. Draco taps his foot on the floor impatiently, arms crossed against his chest. Ginevra Weasley is bouncing on her heels. Ronald Weasley runs a hand through his hair for about the hundredth time. Harry sodding Potter is thankfully held together.

And then I hear quiet footfalls from the very top of the stairs. _Ah, she finally did it. How thoughtful._ We have been waiting for about an hour or so, and now is the only time she comes down. How very rude of her to keep 'breakfast' waiting.

She saunters to the step which allows someone to see her, and I fight the urge to stare. I, of course, win the fight and settle on standing up, trying to memorize how my body does it. I couldn't lay my eyes on her as I'm afraid I will stare.

She looks—forgive me—absolutely beautiful. What with how the white of her top kisses her alabaster skin and how her shorts—and may I say, very very short ones—compliment her creamy legs. And her face…it seems like she has changed overnight. Or is it just because I don't really observe closely?

_Oh, shut the fuck up, Severus Snape._

I move my eyes to hers and see that they're brimming with tears. She lifts both her hands to her mouth and starts shedding the liquid. As she does so, the people around me shout their rehearsed greeting gleefully.

She runs down and hugs every person she sees. She reaches Draco, who is to my right. I can see the hesitance in her tear-filled eyes, but she hugs him anyway. Draco pats her awkwardly on the back and mutters something unintelligible.

"Hey, Malfoy. Lovely eyes." she replies, and something in the inside of me stirs, almost like I want her to say the same to me or at the very least, give me a compliment.

Aw, bloody fucking hell.

Draco's expression changes for a bit, but he quickly recovers. "Uh, thanks." He says.

HA! Draco Malfoy, shocked by a girl's compliment. How perplexing. If Lucius hears about this…

I am not able to finish the thought, because then she, Hermione, moves closer to me, and although I can see the hesitance in her eyes, flings her arms around me. For about a nanosecond, I stand there, enjoying her vanilla-clad scent and the feel of her body against mine. The warmth her body emits gives me peace. _Shit._ But only for a nanosecond. I quickly regain my composure and pat her on the back just like Draco did. She immediately stands back and looks straight into my eyes, head cocked to the side as if in wonder. I look back, straight into her brown ones. We challenge our stares for a moment until she finally looks away and addresses the people.

She says a lot, but I don't pay attention. I want to scold myself for having this feeling of warmth. I am not supposed to feel warm towards her. I am supposed to feel…well, nothing. Nothing at all. She's just that silly know-it-all from Hogwarts who grew up to be a beaut—excuse me—grown woman. The fact shouldn't be affecting me at all.

I move out of my trance when Ginevra Weasley practically shouts at Potter about Granger. Potter nods as he says something, and the Weaslette squeals. She addresses Granger and tells her something about the men's—our cocks' standing proudly when she gets back down. _Fuck._ So I suppose she'll head up with red riding hood (a Muggle story I have heard about recently) then. As she does so, I sit back down on the couch I was previously on and wait, drumming my fingers on my knee—_again._

* * *

I'm sure it took a decade—or maybe even more, but then I hear footfalls again, and I suppose everyone does so as well because they start grooming themselves like there's no tomorrow.

The Weaslette is the first to emerge, and she hops to the last step and giddily bounces on her heels. And then Granger shows up.

_FUCKING HELL._ The déjà vu is overwhelming. I fight the urge to stare, but apparently, I am not on the inning side. I can't even fight gaping, so I do.

She saunters down to the last step and smiles at us. Her dress hugs her every curve, all the right places, showcasing her marvelous legs. Her hair frames her face delicately, and her face looks…angelic. I do not know if it's the correct word.

While everyone admires her appearance, Draco and I just stare, keeping our distance. The boy looks like he's about to charge at her and take her right there, so I squeeze his shoulder lightly. He gives a start and stare daggers at me. I raise my eyebrows at him, and he nods slightly.

"Who knew the Mudblood could look this hit? Makes me wanna take her to bed and ride my wand. You don't think she'll disagree, don't you?" he whispers playfully.

I decide on sarcasm. "No, not at all. I'm sure she'll throw herself at you if you ever utter the invitation. She'd love to 'ride your wand' as you say."

He rolls his eyes.

Just then Lee Jordan and George Weasley start talking, and everyone turns their attention to them. I am an exception, though. I grab the opportunity to stare at Granger while no one else is aware. I think Draco is, too. Shit. This is so wrong.

_But who the bloody hell cares? She looks breathtaking._

What the hell am I thinking? She's twenty-one for Merlin's sake, and I'm way too old. An old man can dream, at least. On second thought, a man can _only_ dream. Period. That's the limit; it reaches the maximum level at that. It's either an old man can ignore and shut up about it, or an old man can dream. _Holy fuck._ I should shut up with this shit already.

The former pranksters say irrelevant words, and I pretend to listen…

I am caught off guard when they mention 'Snog in the Dark.' _Fucking hell._ A game? And a sucker one at that. I've played that game before, back when I was a young Death Eater. You wouldn't believe who I snogged._ Bellatrix Lestrange._ It was excruciatingly disgusting. Bella's fine. She can be nice at times, but snogging her is…_euh_. The thought makes me shiver. Rabastan ended up snogging Narcissa, and Lucius with Antonin. The looks on their faces were priceless.

The dunderheads, Weasley and Jordan state the mechanics. And I see they have followed the tradition that when someone cheats, that _someone_ will be stunned. Hm, fair enough. But I can't do this. I have to make my escape. I hurriedly search for Draco and find him leaning against the wall. Before I can grab him, darkness swallows the room.

Oh, it's starting. I sigh and turn sheepishly in place so I won't get stunned. I don't walk around, no. I might get lucky, and no one would come in contact with me, and all will be well. So I stand there, holding my breath.

Just when I think I am indeed getting some luck, someone bumps into my chest. I get a wisp of that someone's scent, and my eyes widens on their own will, against mine. _Vanilla. _It's Hermione fucking Granger! Aw, hell. I swear, on Salazar Slytherin's grave, I will _never _snog this woman. _Fuck this shit._

I am caught off guard when she grasps my shoulders and presses her lips against mine. I stiffen and shiver inwardly because her scent and her lips are intoxicating. I feel her long eyelashes flutter against my cheeks. I stand there for a while, not responding to her tempting lips. I _have _to pull away, but my body doesn't want to. _But I have to._ I don't fucking care if I get stunned. I have more experience than any other wizard here. I can get myself out of the mess.

And so I try to pull away. But I can't. I really, really can't… So I give in to the feeling, her lips, her scent, her warmth—every good thing she could offer. I am going to regret this later, I know. But to hell with it! I can deal with the regret later. Right now, I have some business to do. I respond to her lips, adding vigor, and do unspeakable things. I am pretty sure I'm not in my right mind at the moment, but this feels intentional—as if this is why. Why—I don't know. Just why.

I do not want to have an erection. No way in hell. But guess what? I now have one. I really _have_ to break this intimacy. But I can't. Too late.

I lift her up and carry her by her behind, and she wraps her legs around my waist. I stagger forward and press her against the wall. We continue. She bucks her hips as my crap erection nudges against her thighs, and grinds into it. I can't help it, so I grind back as I feel the heat radiating from her beauty. I continue kissing her vigorously, and right now, I know I'm out of my mind.

I am about to massage her thighs when someone grabs me from behind. I open my eyes and see that it is bright, and all the people are staring back and forth from me to her with knocked for six expressions. Ronald Weasley was the one who pulled me, of course. And then I turn to _her _direction and see that she is staring at me, slightly gaping. I regain my composure, say some shit, grab Draco—who looks like he might devour the effing woman, get out of the place, and disapparate to Spinner's End.

I release a breath I definitely knew I was holding. Draco is staring daggers at me.

"Well?" he asks.

"Well what?" I respond.

"Ohohoho, don't play dumb with me, old man."

"Draco, it was—no. It was just a game. I didn't want to be stunned. No one did. So just shut the fuck up and spare me. Your shit is sickening."

He looks at me incredulously and huffs. "That's bullshit. I know that you are very capable of getting out of the mess. And_ your_ shit is sickening. You've just _snogged_ a Mudblood for fuck's sake! I could have—" He stops midsentence.

Eyebrows, up up up up! "You could have what, Draco? Don't tell me you wanted to snog her. You did, didn't you? You wanted her to snog the living daylights out of you." I see the look on his face and feel triumph creep up my spine. "Well, well, well! Draco Malfoy, Pureblood, actually wants to snog a Muggle-born. _Fantastic!_"

"No. I. Do. Not."

"Draco." I give him _the look_. I know when he doesn't speak of the truth. I know everything about Draco Malfoy. His body language, the way he acts around people, everything. And I can see that he envies me. "Who did you snog, anyway?" I ask out of sheer curiosity.

He grimaces. "Some Hufflepuff freak. Clearwater, was she? And the Percy Weasley freak almost killed me, if it weren't for your little stunt there." Draco in smug mode. Great.

"Shut up, Draco. Let's just get to work."I say and turn to my house—or where it's supposed to be.

He sighs. "Fine."

On the right side, a wall stands, and I recognize it. It's the wall of my library. And it's the only wall standing, surrounding it are piles of rubble.

"Aw, shit." Draco says, glaring at the view. "It'll take us forever to fix this place. Why don't you just get a new place?"

I do not want to get a new place because that piece of shit right there, that's sentimental. Call me a pussy, it's still sentimental. Of course I wouldn't say this to Draco, so… "Just shut up and tell me if you're in."

He narrows his eyes at me but nods anyway. "I'm in."

"Alright."

A lull… So I circle the whole place and kick shards of glass, chipped wood, ripped pages of books, and _parts_ of whatever stuff I had.

"So. Where should we start?"

I honestly don't know. "I don't know."

"Awesome. You drag me here for 'business,' and you don't even know what to do. Hot stuff."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, let's start with clearing the place up. How's that sound?"

He raises his eyebrows. I ignore the expression. I pull my wand out from my pocket and start muttering spells to clean the place. At my peripherals, I see Draco position himself and start doing what needs to be done. We work in silence, taking a break every now and then, and I am plagued by images of the game earlier.

* * *

Draco and I stand back and stare. It's not that clean, but at least 0.2% of the trouble's been ticked out. The single wall still stands mockingly, but rubble no longer surrounds it.

"Not bad for day one." He says.

I nod in agreement. "Thank you for the help. I shall owl you the exact time tomorrow. Maybe we could start at noon."

"Sure," he shrugs. "I'll get going. I'm dead hungry. Hope Dimby made me something appetizing."

"Your elf cooks well, Draco."

"I know. I'm just hungry. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Draco."

With that, he Disapparates to his new home. I decide to head to Hog's Head. I need something to drink. The image of snogging Miss Soft Lips Granger has been bothering me all day.

* * *

I am on my fourth mug of Firewhiskey. I think I'm done. The clock says 2:15 a.m.

I am slightly dizzy with the whiskey, but I am not drunk. I can manage. I Disapparate to Number 12 Grimmauld Place and lean on the nearest wall for a bit. They left the door unlocked, and I go in. I head to the kitchen for a refreshing swig of water, but I'm stopped dead on my tracks. I hear a sobbing, choking voice of a woman—Granger—and a loud pounding.

I race in and see that she is pounding a golden locket with a hammer furiously, as if her life depends on it, aiming for it to fall apart. I'd be smirking and laughing mockingly right now if it weren't for her expression…

Her shoulders shake as she sobs; hair and dress askew; big raging tears streaming freely from her agonized eyes, a look of vulnerability shining through them. I don't know if it's the whiskey talking, but at this moment, I see a vulnerable grown woman who God—thank Him—sent for me to comfort and cherish and all the shit married couples do. I see a beautiful woman. I see a woman I will come home to. I see a woman with my children. I see a woman who will stay with me through thick and thin. I see a woman who will live for me.

As all these images flash and slide in and out of my mind, it takes a halt at one image. I do not know how to react. I do not know what to say, what to do, or if I should even tolerate it. I know it's insane and it's just the whiskey, but something's telling me that this insanity is real. This insanity is all I have ever wanted, from the very beginning of my existence. This is infinite.

I see love; I see my wife. And this is infinite.

* * *

**A/N: May I continue fangirling? Yes? Nonono, let's fangirl together! *squeals with you*  
And to all who are against Fifty Shades: Aw. :( No flames, 'kay? 'Tis not a problem. Thanks! :)  
Luvluvluvluuuurrrve y'all! Review, PM, follow, fav, ignore, anything that floats your lovely boat.  
Laters, baby. ;)**


	8. Broken

**A/N: Well hello there, my dear, dear readers. I am sorry this is delayed. Hey, I've got an excuse. Very reasonable. My great grandfather died. No, not my great grandfather's son's cousin's daughter's nanny's friend's sister's fish. My great grandfather. So, you know…'been busy. I hope you're not too pissed. I've been very unproductive, I know. Really sorry. So, let's get on with the chapter, shall we? Mmm…I like the sound of that.**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Broken **

_And he reaches inside his pocket as his blue eyes darken._

Ron very much gracefully—please note the sarcasm—pulls out a golden chain peeking out of his front pocket. As the object totally unleashes, I see that it is a locket. A golden locket with the letter _R_ engraved intricately on the heart.

"Ron... I-it's beautiful." And it was. It was very feminine and sophisticated. I'd fling my arms around him if not for his drunken state.

"Yeah? 'M glad. Took me _loooong_ to find it and make it and what-not." He kept slurring his words.

"Thanks, Ron," I smile.

"Sure. Here, check it out," he says as he hastily opens the heart.

I gasp and smile back at the two people on each side of it-me and Ron, laughing. I reach out to touch it, but Ron snaps it shut. I look up at him under my lashes and see that his eyes have not yet returned to its normal glistening blue. He smirks his own and reaches out to grasp my shoulders and turns me around so my back is facing his front. I gasp at the ferocity but keep my temper. _He's drunk. He's not aware. Keep calm._

He closes the little distance between us and presses his front against my back. I feel his breath just below my ear and the pressure of his crotch against my tailbone. _What the hell._ He's hard. Why? Merlin, help me.

He nips at my earlobe, and I flinch the slightest. I try to keep cool because I know he isn't in his right mind. I purse my lips as I feel the cold metal slide by my collarbone, my neck, and my nape. Ron grunts as he tries to hook the latch. He probably can't focus much. _Right._ Well, he finally does, and I stare down and finger the engraved _R._ I turn to him, expecting clear, glistening, kind blue eyes and the trademark Ronald Weasley Grin. Instead, I see the darkened blue. Lust, greed, envy, and hatred written all over his face.

It all happens too fast. My back hits the wall with impact so intense, I'm shocked it hasn't knocked the breath out of me. One of his hands clutches both of mine above my head, the other one greedily roaming my body as he devours me. His mouth sucks too hard on the sensitive part of my throat, it hurts. I'm very sure it will leave a hideous mark. He grinds against me and his hardness disgusts me. This is not erotic. This is disgusting. I try to pry away from him and his cold gaze. I wriggle and squirm and lash out. Summoning all my strength, I kick him in the groin and feel him pull away abruptly. He stares at me, wide-eyed, eyes still dark with flickers of awareness.

"YOU BASTARD! HOW DARE YOU! FUCK YOU, RONALD WEASLEY! You—you were going to rape me. Oh my gods. You were going to rape me. You... You son of a bitch!" It occured to me then that this man in front of me lost all chances of being mine. And I apologize to Mrs. Weasley in my subconscious.

He runs a hand through his face. "Mione, I—"

"Don't 'Mione' me, you asshole! Get out! Now! And don't even think I'll ever forgive you! Fuck you, you monster!"

He is a little sober, but still pissed, nonetheless. His eyes gradually return to its normal color, and I am a tad bit relieved.

"I- I'm sorry."

"Get. Out."

"Hermynee" he's still slurring his words.

"Shut the fuck up and get out."

He opens his mouth to speak but decides against it and heads out. Before he steps out of the kitchen, he stops. "Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't know—I just—"

"What, you were gonna rape your own girlfriend? Oh, how touching, Ronald. You have no idea how much I'm loving you right now." I dramatically raise my hand to my chest.

"Just. Please. Can we talk about this some other time?"

I huff. "Some other time? There won't be any other time. We're _done_ , Ronald." I say as I pull the locket with such force that the latch comes undone painfully. I hide my wince and throw it at his feet. I know how this scene comes up all the time in romance novels and how I think it's a cliché, but right now, I don't give a damn. I'm surprised I'm even thinking about it.

Ron picks up the locket, lays it on the table between us, gives me an apologetic look, and walks out.

I wait until I hear the door close and click, and then I dissolve. I sit on the corner, hug my knees against my chest, and sob to the heavens. I think of Ron, and how I thought we'd grow old together. Ha, I'm such an idiot. I'm very thankful I haven't given myself to him.

My eyes land on the locket. I dash out of the kitchen to the attic. It's all a flurry of actions, and moments later, I find myself clutching a hammer, hovering over the locket in the kitchen, poised to attack the damnable thing. And so I attack it with all my might, sobs racking my body.

"This is for breaking my heart." _Thwack_

"My life."_Thwack_

"All the times we argue." _Thwack_

"When you leave the toilet lid open all the time when we lived together." _Thwack_

"How such an arrogant prick you are." _Thwack_

"How you let me think it was you." _Thwack_

"How you let me think it was love." _Thwack_

"How you lured me to you." _Thwack_

"How lovely your mother is." _Thwack_

"How insensitive you are."_Thwack_

"How fucked up everything will be." _Thwack._

I stop momentarily and angrily wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. Back to destroying the thing now.

_Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, sniff, sniff, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack—_

"Miss Granger." I am interrupted. Oh, gods. Of all people? Really?

"Mister Snape." I snap and resume.

_Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack—_

The hammer zooms out of my hand and into the git's.

"Fuck you! Give. It. Back. To. Me." I am too angry to filter my words. He raises an eyebrow.

"And what, may I ask, were you doing with..._this_?" He lifts up the hammer for emphasis.

I keep my mouth shut.

"Granger?"

Mouth. Shut.

"Granger." Stern this time. Ah.

Still shut.

"Okay, then. I shall call Potter and Weasley to let them know about your behavior."

There. My trigger._Weasley_ . I burst into tears. More tears. "NO! No, no, no. Please. Don't. Ron and I broke up, okay? He-he..." I can no longer continue. His expression remains impassive.

"What?"

"He tried to—to ...rape me." Oh, gods. This is too much. I hug myself and let myself sink down to the floor. He doesn't help me up. Instead, he crouches down in front of me, unexpected concern written all over his face. That's good. I don't think I can stand up longer than a nanosecond.

"He...raped you?"

"Yes. Well, no. He tried to...um. He touched me—"

His expression changes. Anger. _Nice._ Gods. I'm such a bitch.

"No, no, no. Not exactly. He didn't get me...naked. I—he, um...he just—" Tears no longer leak from my eyes. I realize it's not worth it. Not at all.

"_Shit_. He did that?" he interrupts as he points at my neck.

I, of course, am clueless to what he's referring to, and so I glance down at the direction he's pointing.

_Oh, no_ . NONONONO. A hickey. I hate hickeys. They are the ugliest things in the world. What was Ron thinking? Was he going for _"Hey, look! I tried to shag Hermione Granger against her will._ _Here's proof."_ ? My gods. For a dunderhead, he's got it real bad. I almost feel sorry for him. But no. I still feel so broken. I am trying to rearrange my thoughts in a way that I won't feel all the impact of what happened. It's too much to take. I just can't, you know.

"A hickey," I sigh.

"I can see that."

"I know you can, but I'd appreciate it if you can't."

He sighs. His breath smells like Firewhiskey. Eh. Well, at least he's not going to rape me.

The thought makes me shiver, and for a moment, I think I'm going to lose it. _I_ _can't,_ I tell myself. _Be strong, hold it_ _together._ But I know deep inside that this is cowardice: this hiding of feelings. I know it will just build up and hurt me even more when it bursts. No, I can't hold it in. This isn't right. I don't give a damn what this greasy-haired git thinks. I'm going to cry if I want to. In front of him. Yes.

And so I do. I sob, laugh, and smile. The aftershock of my situation—tears of gloom, joy, satisfaction, and something else. Joy, because I finally did something right and not let my pride get in the way. Satisfaction because I finally let Joy in.

I am surprised when Snape (He's quite drunk, I can see.) pulls me over to him, wraps his arms around my unstable figure, and pats me on the back. I somehow feel better. Something about the way he loses his snob demeanor is comforting. As I wrap my arms around him and rest my chin on his shoulder, I realize that I am exhausted. I want to go to bed. And maybe I tell him that, because I feel myself being carried. I am half-conscious, and by the time I fight the urge of shutting off, I am in my room already.

I jerk away from the lure of unconsciousness.

"Um. Sir? Do you mind if... Well, I'd like to change first. So...you know, just out the door. But please don't go anywhere." Whoa. Where did these words come from?

He seems surprised, but he puts on his stern facade. "All right." He walks out the door and closes it behind him. I reach for my wand on the bedside table and mutter a spell to lock the door. I wouldn't take risks.

I quickly change from my purple dress to pajamas. I feel the lure of unconsciousness tempting me to claim it, yet again. I open the door and find Snape with his back to the door.

"Decent?" he asks, still not turning to face me. Something stirs in the inside of me. Such a gentleman. I find this funny. No kidding. I'd go_LOL!_in my head if I weren't too groggy.

"Yes."

He turns to face me now. As I look into his black orbs, I forget my drowsiness, but it's still there, looming around.

I give him a small smile, and he returns it with a slight nod. I suddenly feel light-headed, and feel myself losing balance and swaying to the welcoming floor. Snape reaches out and catches me just in time. I give him a silent thanks, and the lure of slumber is back. The door is quite a distance from the bed and my legs are giving out, but I make a go for it anyway. He loosens his grip on me but tightens again when I stumble. He then carries me to the bed—bridal style—and lays me on it. I must feel self-conscious, but I am not, at the moment.

My eyes are drooping and I mutter something to Severus. Slumber swallows me before I can register that I've just mind-called him 'Severus.'

And worse, I've told him to stay.

"Stay with me." The words hang in the air and around the walls of my unconsciousness. It's wrong, I know. But did he? I have a weird feeling that if I find out he didn't, I'd be unnecessarily disappointed. If he did, though, then that's nice. _Mm, shut up, Granger. You're not making any sense._

* * *

**A/N: Soooo. How was it? I know, Ron's a total wanker. In case you haven't gotten it yet, he's sort of the antagonist here. Oh, and BTW, I'm working on an original fiction story. I got too excited and wrote a portion of the prologue, but I don't know for sure how the story will work out. Haha…I feel so silly. Anyway. Review, PM, follow, fav, whatever floats your boat. Thanks!  
xo,**

**Nix ;) **


	9. Okay

**A/N: Hullo. I'm sorry this took soooo long. I've been busy with uh...stuff. And I've been having writer's block often. Really, really sorry. So okay, chap 9 at your service! It's very short, so again, sorry. Severus the sexy beast is drunk, so I made it brief. Pfft. I feel like I'm not moving forward. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Oh, and this was not edited. Read at your own risk. (Is that how it's said? Or did I miss prepositions or something? Meh, never mind) :) **

* * *

**Chapter 9: Okay**

"Miss Granger," I interrupt her shocking exposé.

"Mister Snape," she snaps, not even looking up from her efforts.

I smirk, and the hammer zooms out of her hand and into mine. Ah, thank Merlin for wandless magic.

"Fuck you! Give it back to me!"

Ooooh. Granger cusses. Oh, and by the way, you must know that I am drunk, and therefore cannot say the whole thing in detail. What I can say though, is quite sufficient.

I force the reason of her shocking exposé out of her by threatening to report to her friends. She suddenly crumbles, and I am taken aback. I do not show my mental reaction, of course. Being drunk doesn't mean losing my routine. It just makes me loose is all.

I ask her stuff, and I find out that Weasley almost raped her, which made me very angry. Not as angry, though, as when I see the fresh mark on her neck. I am suddenly furious. I ask her if Weasley did it, not bothering to hide my eh...reaction.

She gives me a look of confusion and examines her neck. Her eyes widen at what greeted her, and she sighs and talks about hickeys.

And then I sigh.

And then she starts sobbing. And laughing. It looked really weird. She has a big smile plastered, and tears stream down her face.

And out of the blue, I find myself hugging her. I better not get drunk when Granger's around next time. It's not doing me good. Her scent is filling my being, and I don't know if it's the alcohol or her scent that is keeping my drunkenness up.

She asks me to bring her to her room, and I oblige and carry her there. She tells me to wait outside the door while she changes. Well, she stutters, but even in my drunken state, I still understand. Awesome, aren't I? And yes, drunkenness really affects my mental verbal stuff. See?

Anyway, so I wait outside, and very inappropriate images of her flit in my head. Aw, hell, no. Anything but these.

Thankfully, she comes out of her room, but I still keep my back to her.

"Decent?" I ask.

She says yes, and I turn to face her. _Beautiful. _The unwanted voice in my head speaks up.

Granger stumbles to her bed, but she seems incapable, so I carry her instead. It will save time, effort, and her flawless skin. She looks at me, obviously exhausted, holds my gaze, and says, "Stay with me."

My eyebrows automatically shot right up, while slumber takes her in its presence.

"Okay," I say, without contemplating. I get a chair, sit on it (of course), and stay there, beside her bed, while slumber claims me as well.

* * *

**A/N: Yes. There it is. OH! Have I told you I'm making a new story? It's not fanfiction, though. I might put it up in Wattpad, I dunno. I'll update you when I'm finished with the prologue. It's um...an adult story for teens. Hehe...I don't really know how or even want to make it for adults. I'm too young to have an adult's perspective. Seriously, peeps. I'm like, 13. Turning 14 next month. I don't even know how I'll manage to write lemons. O_O  
But yeah, I guess I'll be able to live through it. Haha...I actually decided to make this story rated M because my adventurous side was hitting on me, and I accepted the challenge of making my first story Rated M at the age of sdfshdfdhhd. HAHA. Kay. No hate, please. I'm living a very hard writing life. Loljks! Review, follow, fav, PM me, ignore; anything that floats your boat. Oh, and if you want to stay tuned for my upcoming story, my Wattpad account is also PurpleCrimson23272. I'll give you the link once I have put up the prologue. Thanks, everyone! You darlings rock! Cheers!**

**xo,**

**Nix :)**


	10. Surprise, Surprise

**A/N: Hey there! Sorry for the long wait. I'm a procrastinator. :**

**I have just finished this and hurried on to upload it. I apologize in advance for any misspelled words or wrong grammar. Besides, English isn't my first language. Hehe, lame excuse.**

**So we're finally on the 10th chap! Yayy! I hope you enjoy!**

**This chapter is dedicated to all of you who stood by this despite my terrible uploading-on-time skills. Without y'all, this wouldn't be possible. I also thank my family for being oblivious to my writings, else I'd have not made it this far. I'd be grounded for a lifetime, I guess. I dedicate this to each one of my friends, who gave me moral support, despite little knowledge of the plot. I dedicate this to my friend, Aaron Ocampo, (who might be oblivious to the dedication), who named the title. I also dedicate this to my purple unicorn, who will probably never see this crap I call my writing. And finally, I thank God and dedicate this to Him for making me go this far and for giving me satisfactory writing skills. Thanks, everyone!**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Surprise, Surprise**

A smile lights up my face as I feel Crooks's puffy breath on my face, the hot air fanning my cheeks pleasurably.

I am awake, but I haven't opened my eyes yet, or made a move to get up. But I guess now is the time to do both.

I open my eyes and blink a couple of times to clear my vision. Hm...that doesn't look right. I rub my eyes this time, seeing as I'm hallucinating.

I get a mini panic attack when nothing changes. I shake my head slightly and stare again.

Oh. My. Glob. Why the hell is there a face-up close-right in front of my own face? Oh no. No, no, no, no. Memories of the previous events come flooding back to my mind. Oh no. Please tell me I'm dreaming. Please. Please. Please. Please.

I move my head back to have a better look at what I've gotten myself into.

No, it's not Crookshanks. The hell it isn't.

This one's human. Definitely human. And most definitely male. With greasy black hair, strong facial structure, black lashes fanned coolly against his cheeks, and, and, and soft-looking baby lips which make you want to pucker up and rate the whole thing PG-13.

But oh, hell, NO! Sleeping near me, seated on a chair with his head rested on my pillow, is none other than Severus Snape. Yes, the one and only.

And then things go back to me. The way he comforted me, pissed and all; the carrying, the waiting outside the door, the gentlemanliness, the carrying again, the everything. And did I actually call him by his first name aloud? And told him to stay?

Well, I definitely told him to stay, because if I didn't, then why the hell would he be here, head on my pillow, all iguana-like, when he can stay in his own room and go, I don't know, all koala-like?

I know he was not that busted up to be stupid enough to stay here without me asking so nicely. And I probably did.

I sigh, run my hands through my hair to tame the messed up thing, and get out of bed, leaving the man sleeping. Hopefully, for long.

I'm about to flee down the stairs when I hear some stirring from the said place.

It couldn't possibly be Kreacher, could it? He doesn't usually produce audible noise when people are upstairs. I'm guessing it's Harry or someone else, then.

I shrug nonchallantly and go down in my pyjamas.

As I enter the living room, I stop dead on my tracks. Why, life, why?

In the living room, pacing back and forth, looking absolutely horrible, is the last person in the whole universe I want to wake up second to from a bad night, Ronald Weasley. And he happens to be the cause of that bad night. Well ah, morning. Or whatnot. Again, why, life, why?

He halts when he sees me, all dolled up in his glory. Hehe, see what I did there? But anyways...

He opens his mouth and closes it, rather reluctant to speak his mind, while I, on the other hand, await for the boiling anger that should come out soon.

Silence.

The anger doesn't go out, only disgust and irritation.

"Mione..." He mumbles.

"Mione? Uh, who? Oh, and pardon me, but who are you?" I say as the heavenly tone of sarcasm flows beautifully from my mouth. Pfft. Real mature, Hermione. Real mature. I should facepalm myself now.

"Mione, please."

"Hehehe," I chuckle pathetically. Again, real mature, Hermione. Reeeaaal mature.

"Hermione." A whisper this time.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't quite hear you. What was that again?" I mock him.

He stares daggers at me, but his expression softens when I stare pitchforks and torches back at him.

"I'm sorry." He rasps.

I give him an amused look.

"Please forgive me." He begs. I mentally laugh manically but stop immediately when I see his features gurgle deep in sincerity.

I give him a frown.

"May we talk?" He asks.

"I will do the talking." I say.

He smiles slightly, a hopeful look gracing his features, and shrugs.

"Now, listen, Ronald. Last night or whatever the hell it was, was..." I honestly don't know what to say. He maintains his hopeful, apologetic look.

"It was... Bad. Real bad. And I honestly think you deserve more than just a kick on your Voldemort," I mentally grin at my actually funny statement, "And I'm not ready to be around you yet." True story.

"So we're really over?" Red asks.

I groan inwardly. Stupid, stupid boy. How was I even in love with him? Was it even love? Eh. "Yes, we are."

"Can we at least be friends?"

"No. We can't, and we may not. Not now, at least. I have to clear my mind first or something." I don't care if it sounds immature. He attempted something that shouldn't be attempted. And I was his effing girlfriend, for Merlin's sake! He could've just asked me nicely. I don't think I'd be able to stand being near the guy who attempted. I understand he was drunk, but that's no excuse! Ask yourself, will you? If you were in my shoes, I mean. But that's my opinion. There aren't any similar snowflakes around.

His eyes widen at what I said. "Please, Mione, please."

Can't he get it? "No. And don't call me that."

This time, he doesn't reply, but runs to me, gripping my shoulders roughly and shakes them. "Please." His watery blue eyes drill into my browns, and I almost give in.

"No. I'm sorry." I turn my head to the floor, afraid of his beautiful eyes. Real pathetic. And why am I apologizing? Ugh.

"Please, Hermione. Please. One last chance?" He whispers.

I shake my head slightly. "Not now."

His hand cups my chin gently and levels his eyes with mine. "Answer me again after this."

Before I could even show the confusion on my face, his lips press against mine. I turn into water, and my knees buckle. I close my eyes. He supports my weight with his body, and I reluctantly respond to the kiss. No, there aren't any of the cliche sparks. Only the flowing honey of lust.

His tongue comes out to brush against my lower lip, and without my authorization, my lips invite his tongue in. He flicks my tongue with his a few times, and then everything breaks.

I open my eyes and see him smirking triumphantly at me, a waiting expression put up.

What the hell? He used it for his own advantage! Hasn't he learned yet?

"I love you, Hermione." He says.

I stare back at him and sigh. "I love you, too, but not in that way anymore."

His expression hardens as he grabs me and presses his forehead against mine. "WHY?" He shouts.

I don't reply. I struggle out of his grasp, but he only tightens his old on my face.

"Ron, please. Let go!"

"No." He shoots back, clearly discouraging any contradictions.

"Please!" I squeal.

"What the hell is happening here?" A voice from behind startles us.

Ron lets go of me and looks behind me. Since I have my back against the voice, I turn my head to it. Of course I already know who it is.

My savior.

* * *

**A/N: How was it? I'd love a review or two. Maybe even a fav or two. And a couple of follows. Thanks! **

**xo,  
**

**Nix ;)**

**P.S. I'm sad to say that the prologue of my upcoming story is still in progress. Hang in there! :**


	11. Wanna, Want to Who Cares?

**A/N: _Suh-priiiiise!_ I'm updating earlier than planned. Yayy me! Okay, so nobody answered my poll. Epic fail. :(  
But that's a-okay because here's chappie 11! Joy. I've decided to be productive this week or at least this October because it's almost my *cough* birthday *cough*, but that doesn't make sense at all, so I've decided to become a little more productive because I luuuurrve y'all.  
Lemme talk about this chap. So I wrote this around 2 AM and finished at 3 AM (that's 8 hours ago, where I'm from), so maybe it's a little bit of a drunken chapter. But nonono, I don't drink. It's just that my brain goes overdrive at around those times, and I'm usually loose and fearless, making writing easier. And making my writing kind of silly. I proofread this, but my eyelids were already drooping, so if you see any mistakes, I'd appreciate it if you point it out. Enough with my blabbering. Enjoy! :)**

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**Chapter 11: Wanna, Want to. Who Cares?**

I am drenched in the coldness of shame. My limbs have been amputated. My eyes will literally pop out of their sockets. My jaws have fallen in love with the floor. My feet—which have managed to survive despite the amputation of my limbs—are glued and gum-taped to the ground. And add super-sticky chewing gum for extra measure.

That was insanely surreal. Had I really said that aloud? That savior thing?

I must have. Why would Mr. Asstard and Mr. My-Savior be staring at me like I've grown seven more limbs (only to be amputated) and iguana-like features if I hadn't?

Oh, Merlin, spare me.

And iguanas are getting a nice hard grip on me. I might start talking about them more often. But that's beside the point, because Mr. Asstard is on his butt, a couple of feet from where he was previously situated, looking absolutely disoriented and furious. That's angry, times three hundred ninety-four.

I glance at the other direction, and I see My Savior holding his wand out. Oh, so he used it.

Pfft. Don't get your dirty minds all riled up. He is holding out his wand wand. Not wand-wand, er, man-object.

Asstard takes a moment to organize himself, and then he pulls out his slightly tattered wand out of his pocket. Again, wand-wand. Not the man-object kind of wand.

I should stop thinking and talking to myself in my head, because now, I'm caught between hysteria and amusement and announcing I'm stupid because I hadn't brought my wand with me. This is what chaos is called. It's worse than the Muggles' food fight thingies. It's more like a light-with-dangerous-stuff-happening fight. Lights everywhere. It's a full-on duel session. Sorta. If I closed my eyes for a minute, and ignored the crazed shouts of Asstard and Savior, I'd actually think I was at a very worked up party with strobe lights dancing around me, like I was some star or whatnot.

Funny, eh, I do. I close my eyes. And then there's the strobe lights. I would've started swaying my hips if not for the fact that I've noticed that I haven't said anything, thus the lack of dialogue in this story, because that's what you're looking for, right? The quotation marks? So okay. I will now speak. For the sake of the beauty of dialogue with at least a twinge of worth.

"Stop." I say, rather calmly, but very loud. Clever me. Not a very good way to start a quotation-mark-worthy thing, eh?

They don't stop. Surprise, surprise.

I contemplate on summoning my wand from upstairs, but then they suddenly stop. Ohmiglob. So stubborn. If I don't say so, they do so. If I do say so, they don't, er...do so. Men.

"Oh, good, you stopped." I say.

I look at Asstard and realize why the sudden halt. Hehe, he's all tied up. Ropes and all that. I laugh.

Ron the Asstard looks at me as if I've eaten the last chicken in the world. "Hermione! Help me!"

I laugh again, more pronounced this time. "Hm, let me think," I pause for a moment, look up at the ceiling, and tap my index finger on my chin. "Nah."

He growls.

I then look at Severus the Savior. He's not breathing hard at all like Ron. I don't think he even exerted much effort. Nice. Yummy.

Ohmiglob! Why do I suddenly talk like this?! Psh. Blame the author. I think she's in a bit of a good mood right now. But then I should remind her that from a total alien reader, her story will look very bipolar, as her characters are not quite in character. But oh well. It's fanfiction, isn't it? She can do whatever she wants, I think. Wait, why am I doing this? Back, back, back, back! I cannot afford to be distracted like this! There are two bimbos I have to deal with, for Merlin's sake.

"Uhh." I try.

Asstard is still struggling out of the tight knots, while Savior is staring blankly at him. I should really say something significant already.

"Oi! Listen, Savi- Snape. Just let him go and kick his lazy bum out of this pleasant place, yeah?" I tell Savior. I don't give him time to respond. I'm feeling arrogant at the moment. "And you, Asstard," I address Ron. "You will be free of those bonds, and you will let yourself get bum-kicked out of here. Understand? And don't even try anything. Two against one, baby. You're outnumbered." I smile triumphantly.

He scowls. "This is not over, Hermione," he tells me, and then addresses Snapey. "This is most definitely not over as well, you son of a bitch. I will finish this. And I will win, I promise you. Now, get these things away and going, so I can go ahead and plan my revenge."

I roll my eyes. "Just shut up, Ronald. We'll talk sometime."

"There won't be any talking." He spits, smirking menacingly. And my suddenly-over-protective savior moves forward with an I-will-strangle-you-if-you-don't-shut-the-hell-up look.

I restrain him by stepping forward and doing something I thought I'd never do. I was aiming for blocking him, but tell me why I ended up with my body flush against his. Oh, it's so nice. His leafy and fresh parchment-ish scent is driving me to Disneyland. Sigh.

Ohnonono, Hermione. Think straight.

"No," I tell him, a supposedly determined look on my face. Or at least I'm trying to make it that way anyway. "Just let him go and kick him out of here. And then call Harry, and I'm sure he'll do something about it. And relax. I'm supposed to be the one freaking out."

He stares at me incredulously. "I am not freaking out." The sentence momentarily drowns Asstard's whines.

"Yes, you are. But if you insist, okay, then. Just. Get him out of here." I reply, not hiding the sheer annoyance. This is just so sick and immature.

He does this all in a blink, and by the time I'm on my third blink, it's only the two of us, with the distant yell of Asstard from outside. I slump down on the couch and sigh a heavy one. Moments later, Ron gives up, and I hear the lovely _crack, _which most definitely means Disapparation. Oh, yayy.

Severus (yes, I will start calling him that, since I think we're all in this together. For now, at least) slumps down on the couch as well.

And then I'm suddenly rambling. My mouth has a mind of its own, I swear. I don't even hear or understand them. But Severus does, because I see him nod slightly, and a glint of understanding graces his features whenever I say something that'd be worth understood. I finally end with, "I thought it was real, you know? I hoped and hoped and hoped. Seems I have terrible luck, though. And it's weird saying this to a former professor. But I just...I don't know. I'm disappointed with myself. I've deluded myself. I actually thought it was _love._ "I chuckle a bitter one. "It wasn't. And I just. I don't know. I just- I want- I want to-" I sigh when I couldn't find the right words. But then...

Bingo! They finally come. And Mr. My-Savior is still wearing a blank expression. Pokerface. Eeeeevil.

"I wanna know what love is." is what I say. Help me know what love is, is what I do not. It's very sad to think that I've wasted half of my life pining—sorta—for the wrong guy. But then again, maybe it was for a purpose. For preparation or whatnot. But I'm not lonely. Just a bit sad is all. And it hits me real hard on the tongue. I somehow managed to accidentally bite my tongue: exactly why it hit me on the tongue.

I really, really do, in all seriousness. I wanna know what love is. Just like I said seconds ago, more to myself than to my ass savior. But maybe a little bit to him as well.

* * *

**A/N: Hello again! You like? I'm sorry for the lack of dialogue. I just dislike writing dialogue. It can be a pain in the tongue sometimes, you know? So just do anything that mends your tongue or floats your boat. Hm, let's see...maybe review? Or fav? Or follow? Anything, really. We must help our tongues!**

**Oh, and I've read Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi. Epic book. Amazing. I'm in love with Adam, Kenji, and-forgive me-Warner. They're such strong characters. And Juliette is epically amazing. I've been taunting my family, touching them, saying, "My touch is not lethal. My touch is powerful." DIIIIIEEEE. But of course, it's meant to be a joke.**

**Oh, and one more thing! I have to tell you all a story! It's a knicker-pulling story. No, not really, but here:  
Last Sunday (that'd be three days ago), after going to church, we went to a mall nearby our church called Alabang Town Center. ATC for short. So we went there, and we ate lunch and everything, and we went to National Bookstore. I don't know if that's familiar to you, but it's one of the leading bookstores here in the Philippines. So anyway, yeah, I went there. And I was so ecstatic. SOSOSOSO ecstatic. I love books. I'd love to be trapped in a bookstore for my birthday. In a matter of seconds-yes, seconds-I've picked up around 7 books. I was heading to the Classics section, but stopped immediately because there, seated primly, all sexiness in his glory, reading a book, was my ultimate crush. (Lucky book) The guy's from church. I don't really have crushes from school because I'm home-schooled, but I have fellow guy home-schooler friends. But yeah, this guy (let's keep it to Joe), so this guy, Joe, was my ultimate crush, my only reality crush (because the rest of my fancied men are either fictional or celebrities-meaning, impossible), and he was right THERE, inches from the Classics shelf. I was dying inside. I NEEDED to get HarperTeen's edition of Sense & Sensibility. It took me 3 minutes to pluck some courage, and I calmly walked over to the Classics shelf, casually scanned the books (I could see him squirming), cursed myself mentally for wearing a dress because I couldn't squat or bend down or something, and calmly pulled out Sense & Sensibility. Mind you, I was dying inside the whole time. I could effing see him squirm in my peripherals. EEK! I was planning on an awesome, calm walk-out, when suddenly, my body claimed a mind of its own, and I was fast-walking like a lunatic away from him and the classics. GAH. I dunno. HAHA, it was freaky. I started hyperventilating on a far-away-from-the-classics-section section. I think it was health, though I'm not sure. Phew. That was so pathetic. Hehe, I thought I'd share.**

**If you actually read that, congratulations, sport! Give yourself a pat on the back. You deserve it tons. ;)**

**Refafo! (Made it up. Review, fav, follow. It sounds like a spell or something. Haha)**

**ex-oh-ex-oh,**

**Nix **


	12. Wishful Thinking

**A/N: See? I told you I'd update again this week. Ohmiglob. Two updates in a week! That just means I love you all more than I love my nonexistent pet unicorn! But I want to have a dog. I really wanna. And I'd call him/her something fancy and macho. Maybe _Gangnam_ or something. Yeww. Just kidding, of course. But have you heard of that? The Gangnam Style thing? It's quite popular over here. When someone says "Gangnam," people would start doing this crazy dance step (or at least that's what I think it is) wherein their forearms intersect each other, and they do this funny thing with their legs. Lol, it's quite entertaining. I've tried it, and it just doesn't work for me. I look like a disabled iguana who thinks she can dance. ANYWAYS. Here's chappie 12! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Wishful Thinking**

_"I wanna know what love is."_

26 characters, 20 letters, 6 words, 1 sentence.

_Blop_. I suddenly snap out of my very long trance. I refocus my mind and think back to the time I was still fully conscious and not half.

I woke up with the most agonizing neck strain and grunted. When I realized the cause of it, I grunted again and lifted my head up. Before I could plot an escape plan to my bedroom, an empty bed greeted me with open arms. The pillow still had a slight concave curve to it, and I figured she just got out. Well, that's perfect, then. I didn't need to waste time and effort to get the hell out of her room without waking her or causing suspicion or whatever potentially drastic thing there might be.

The laziness of my just-woke-up state started hitting on me, and I dropped my head back down on the bed.

I was immediately invaded by the sweet aroma of Hermione Granger, vanilla. I breathed in a lungful, and I guess that's what started my trance. The later events happened so fast, that I could only narrate what I guess were the significant things.

As I was about to go to my room and flee from the subtly intense scent of Granger, I heard a commotion from downstairs. Thinking it was only Granger and the house elf, I decided against checking it out. I proceeded to my room only to stop dead on my tracks as I heard a masculine voice shout from down the stairs, followed by a feminine voice in a struggling tone.

My eyes widened as I remembered what Granger told me several hours ago. Ronald Weasley.

There was no hesitation. I quickly and literally ran down the stairs like a madman, not even bothering to think twice about Apparition: if I could actually do it in here. My brain was on overdrive, therefore I couldn't think straight, which was highly unusual for me. Peculiar, even.

"Please!" Hermione squealed, just as I was storming in.

"What the hell is happening here?" I demanded, wand in hand. My blood was boiling. I had no idea why I had lack of knowledge as to why I'm suddenly very angry. I'm usually calmly angry. Well, as 'calmly angry' as I can get. But-

"My savior." She interrupted my thoughts, with so much awe and finality laced in her sweet voice, that I felt like my blood cells were having an intense battle in my system. My skin was tingling. My body was blissfully rigid and also tingling inside. My neck heated up, and I could only imagine what shade of red it was already. I couldn't make myself to stop with the shit thoughts and how I respond.

What the hell has happened to me?

I'm acting as if I'm a fucking adolescent! This has to stop.

Her chocolate brown eyes were boring through me. She held an expression I couldn't classify.

That time, I could feel the heat on my neck go up to my forehead. Not good.

"This is none of your business, you git. Go back to where you came from. Hermione and I have things to sort out." Weasley broke my secondary trance. Again, my primary trance was this whole thing.

I looked at him in the eyes and gave him my most dangerous expression. "Weasley. It is of my business, as I live under the same roof. It is most definitely my business what kind of noise you make, considering you don't live here. And abusing an individual of the female population makes it all the more my business." is what I said. "Fuck off." is what I didn't.

He chuckled bitterly. "What, we're all formal now, eh, _Mister Snape_ ? What's next? Would you like to be delighted on a pleasant chat over a cup of tea?" He said, a mocking tone complimenting his facial expression. The equilibrium is overwhelming.

"I suggest that you leave now or else." I snapped.

"Nah, that wouldn't be fun, would it? Besides, I'd like to do her now." He said as he glanced at Hermione, who was staring dreamily at the space between Weasley and I. We somehow ended up with me on the right, Weasley on the left, and Granger in the middle, a little bit north.

I lost my composure and snapped. Sharper than you can say shit.

My theory proved true, because the weasel landed on his arse with a muttered 'shit' as I threw him a spell.

And that's when it started. We dueled. He improved a bit from his school days, but I still didn't put much effort to my ministrations. I could win it in a blink of a toad's eye.

I momentarily glanced at her while blocking a spell. She had her eyes closed and a calm expression plastered on her face. It was as if she enjoyed the duel before her unseeing eyes. I smiled inwardly, and hit the back of my head mentally because it was pathetic.

I turned my attention back to the weasel. He was fighting without thinking. Huh. Same as always.

"Stop." Hermione said in that luscious voice of hers.

I pretended not to hear. Weasel didn't have to pretend, because he didn't really hear. I'm sure of it. He was making himself deaf with his pointless shouts.

I decided to end it then and there.

And there, in his glory, was a tightly tied up Ronald Weasley, murdering me with his eyes. I was not intimidated at all.

He pathetically asked help from Hermione, which she cleverly declined. Perfect.

Stuff were said, and I ended up kicking out the weasel.

Granger and I both slumped down to the couch, and she started rambling. I can shamelessly say I didn't listen to a word of it.

But then she said it. "I wanna know what love is."

And then I go back to the present.

Her words hang in the air. My mind starts racing. Suddenly, I'm irritated, annoyed, mad, nervous, I don't know.

Because I do know what love is. I've given love to someone who didn't give it back the same quantity as I offered. It was a one-sided relationship, if you can even call it that.

The remainder of my life after she died, I spent for her. I have dedicated my status to her. All because of love. And I'm not regretting it, what with all the good things that have happened. I just wish I could have...I don't know.

Oh, Lily. My love.

I feel my chest constrict as I think of her, and I'm disappointed.

The constricting happens when I think of her, yes. The problem is, now it's too faint. As if it never even did twist. And I feel like I've betrayed her.

But I didn't, right? I deserve to feel what I ought to feel, given what I've done.

My mental statement was meant to discourage me. But now, I actually feel encouraged.

What the hell is happening to me?

"Severus?" Granger interrupts my thoughts.

And that's when my chest constricts, full force.

Fucking hell.

I turn my attention to her, giving her a raise of my eyebrows, indicating that she has my attention. My name spilling from her lips gives me a warm feeling, and I despise it.

"Thanks." She says.

I give her what I think is a smile and nod slightly.

"You don't really speak much, do you?"

"No." I reply.

"Oh."

I don't reply, so she starts rambling again.

"So um. Yeah, thanks. Er, I'll be heading up now. I think I'm going to write. Yep, I will write. Something spontaneous. Something original. Or..." she suddenly gasps.

"What if I write all this?" she asks, ecstatic.

"What?"

"All this. I mean, I'll write about my life. This. Now, until I reach a point of satisfaction. How about that?"

"Eh..." I counter.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What, you think it's a bad idea?"

Pfft. Women.

"Never you mind, Miss Granger. Just do what you do, and don't get into any more trouble." I say as I walk out of the living room and up the stairs.

"Men!" She whispers in a menacing tone.

I was going to say, 'I heard that,' but then it'd be very callow of me. So I just trudged up the stairs and into my bedroom.

I promise myself that I will never, ever, ever lose my composure just because of Granger. I will never think inappropriate thoughts about her. I will not betray Lily. I will never let my chest constrict when she says my name. And I swear, I will_never_ fall in love with her.

My subconscious chuckles. He knows it's what he thinks it is.

It's wishful thinking.

* * *

**A/N: Heyy. How was it? I honestly think it was a wee bit boring. I keep thinking it's because I forced myself to write it fast. So I'm not sure if I'll be updating again this week. I don't want to rush. Everything turns out crappy when I rush. This chap was finished in thirty minutes, including my proofreading. So yeah, I'm sorry, I guess. But if you actually liked it, then YAYY. Ignore the apology. Accept the BIG Thank You. And if you totally hate it, I welcome _constructive_**** criticism. I do not welcome, eh, 'deconstructive' (dunno if that's the right word) criticism. I very well know the difference between the two. But if you really are in a sour mood, and you feel like you want to expel the...stuff you wanna expel, yeah, you may write a very nasty review. If I could help you by just merely offering an expulsion of troubles, I'd gladly oblige. I love to help. But at the end of the review, you must say that you are indeed in a sour mood. If you don't, you'll end up giving me a sour mood, and then the population of human beings in the world with sour moods will increase, and we might be overpopulated, and we might end up in Mars, because the authorities drove us out 'cause we were growing big and even more sour and bitter. And in Mars we can have a BIGBIGBIG party, and the Martian authorities might drive us out, too, and then we'll end up in Jupiter and so on and so for. Hehe.**

**Oh, and btw, I'll be very busy next week, so I'm not sure if I'll be updating.**

**And feel free to PM me if you want. I don't promise a fast reply, but I will reply. Eventually.**

**_REFAFO!_ ;)**

**xo,**

**Nix**

**P.S. Sorry for the uber long AN.**

**P.P.S. I'VE CHANGED MY PEN NAME! I'm now Nix C. :)**


	13. A Walk to Remember

**A/N: Wa-hey! Whoa. 1 effing month without an update. I'm sorry! I've been soooo busy! And I have just recently went up a grade. Am now grade 11, and it's killing me. Oh yeah, and I just turned 14. Dun dun duuuuuun.**

**Here's a little story: I was in the mall, walking around, and then I suddenly heard a farting sound and smelled a foul stench. There was this cute little eight-year-old-chubby guy near me, and I smiled at him and asked, "Hello! Did you just fart?"**

**He nodded his head. "Yes."**

**And then I gave him a thumbs up. LOL xD**

**Kay, the chapter...**

**P.S. Unedited. Mah bad. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 13: A Walk to Remember**

Dip, scribble, dip, scribble, dip-dip, scribble-scribble.

_Just go on, Hermione. Dip, scribble, dip, scribble._

I chant the words silently as I write random words that could possibly, miraculously fuel this book I'm trying to start.

Just keep scribbling, just keep scribbling.

I remember Dory from the Muggle movie, Finding Nemo. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.

When my hand decides to calm down, I take it as a loss of more to write. I lean back on the chair and stare at my quill.

Footsteps could be heard outside, and by the creaking of the floor, I decide it's Severus.

Moments later, I hear water running. Ah, he's taking a bath. I should, too. But it wouldn't be a very pretty image. Taking a bath together. I mean, taking a bath at the same time.

I go on and read the words laid on the table, which were dancing on fresh parchment. Not too long after, I finish with a title, character names, based-on characters, and a story line. Uh, well, not really. The story line would be told by fate. I'll see how it goes. The title will be _I Wanna Know What Love Is._I thought of doing it the 'professional' way and stick to 'want to' instead, but my gut tells me to be primitive. Of course, the characters would be everyone majorly involved in this mess I call my life. And maybe some minor characters in the sidelines. Only a few name-alterings will be done to protect the identity of based-on characters.

I think on it a few more times until my head can't take it anymore, on the verge of exploding to bits. I then decide on a shower. A nice, calming, relaxing shower. I don't hear running water any longer, so I assume that Snape is already done.

As I shower, my mind dwells on Ron. Oh, Ron. Why, Ron? Please, Ron. I hate you, Ron. I love you, Ron. I don't know, Ron. i don't know anymore. I'm sorry, Ron. We are never, ever, ever getting back together. I'm sorry, Ron. I love you, I hate you, shut up. GAH.

Stray tears fall from my eyes, and the running water drowns them. Turned out to be a-not-very-relaxing shower after all. Sucks.

After wasting in the shower, I clean up with a Louis Tomlinson-inspired outfit. Blue striped tee, red skin-tight jeans, suspenders, and simple grey TOMS, because I'm cool like that. No makeup, no hair battling. I'm exhausted and wasted, and I just want to go out. I will combust.

I head downstairs and find that Severus is in the living room, plopped down on the couch, all macho and not very iguana-like. Perfect.

"Severus," I say, "Bring me somewhere, anywhere. Just get me out. Take me away. I don't care. Get your shit together and get me out." I am inwardly surprised by the tone of my voice and my words.

He gives me a weirded-out look, and I do not turn into mush.

"Please?" I plead.

He cocks his head, and throws me a pathetic excuse of a smile. And that so called "pathetic excuse of a smile" is the sexiest pathetic excuse of a smile I have ever encountered. "Okay." he finally gives in. I turn into mush.

* * *

"Old man, Dumblydore. Forgot to give me his usual morning call. Well, I wouldn't blame 'im. Great man's got a lo' in his mind. He told me he's 'specting the both o' you, though," Hagrid says, holding a mug of Luna's Brambling Brookshocks. "Mm, this is good, Luna. Be'er than the last 'un. Very nice." He gulps the rest of the contents.

"Thank you, Hagrid. Drink up. You never know how much Brookambs hoard one's hand." Luna replies, a gentle dreamy expression flattering her features.

Yes, the beverage was indeed good. Ver nice indeed.

Severus snorts. "The man knows everything."

"Wha' man?" Hagrid asks.

"Albus, Hagrid." Snape answers calmly.

"Oh, yea. The man knows everything and anything and wha'no'. Told me to tell ya to go up to him as soon as you arrive." He stops.

A moment of silence.

"Oh, you better go, then, Hermione, Professor Snape." Luna hums.

Hagrid's eyes grow as big as saucers. "Oh, yea! Sorry 'bout that. Wasn't paying much attention. Well, up you go, then."

"Yes, okay. Thanks, Hagrid." I stand up and Severus does, too.

"I think I'll be heading out as well. Thank you, Hagrid, for helping me consider tamed Wrackspurts as a final ingredient. I appreciate it." Luna smiles.

"No problem, Luna. Say hello to Professor Longbottom for me, will ya?"

Luna nods.

Severus crosses his arms and taps his foor impatiently on the floor.

A moment of silence, yet again.

"Severus, you look like a whiney bitch." I say, not holding back a laugh. Luna joins in.

"How come it's not 'Professor Snape' anymore? Are you together already? I mean, with the snogging and all that. Sorry, I don't mean to pry." Luna gives us an apologetic look.

My eyes are golf balls, and my mouth is a shelter for flies. I turn to Severus, and his face is a perfect mask of blankness.

"No, Luna." I say.

"Ah, I-"

"Are we heading to Albus' office or what? I'm not a patient man." Severus interrupts.

Hagrid was just looking back and forth, from me, to bossy-pants, to Luna, and then back again. It's a ping-pong game, really. He laughs. "Funny, eh, Snape? Er, Professor Snape, I mean. I quite vividly remember when these lot were as small as this," he levels his hand on his waist, "and couldn't bear to talk bad to a professor. And a former professor at that. Ha ha!"

Severus looks annoyed.

"Okay, okay, let's go. Bye, Hagrid!" I smile, and head out with Luna and bossy-pants.

"Hermione, I'm going a different direction, so I'll see you later, okay? Or maybe we can go out for a drink sometime," Luna hums dreamily, "Oh, nice outfit, by the way. If I'm not mistaken, that one's One Direction-inspired, right? Pretty famous Muggle band."

"Alright, Luna. I'll let you know when I can come. And yes, it's One Direction-inspired. Louis Tomlinson, specifically. I love them One Direction. Don't you just love them?" I give her a toothy green.

"Oh, yes. I'm quite fond of them. I think it's what the Muggles call Direction infection. Maybe I should make an antidote? But it's quite nice, really. Although Neville's constantly complaining I love them more than him. Ha ha."

I chuckle. "So you're a Directioner, too? I'm one as well. Funny how non-teenager people fangirl about them, here in Hogwarts. Oh my glob! Ha ha!"

"I'm not a patient man." Severus scowls.

"Alright, Professor Snape. Goodbye, Hermione." and Luna walks off.

"That was rude, you know." I tell Snape.

"I don't give a damn."

"Sucks to be you."

"Fuck, yeah."

"We sound like Americans."

"Don't we?"

"Whatever." I sigh as we walk in sync. A thought comes into mind. "Hey, listen, about that...kiss-"

"I don't want to talk about it." he snaps.

"But-"

"Not a word."

"But, see-"

"Shut up."

"Listen, I-"

"I don't want to talk abou-"

"YOU LISTEN TO ME NOW, SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE. FUCKING LISTEN TO ME. KEEP YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND SHUT THE FUCK UP."

He gives me an amused look, eyebrow raised. "Go on."

"Now, that...kiss. I'm sorry about that."

"..."

"Say something."

"Hello." he says.

"Dafuq! What is wrong with you?"

"Miss Granger, forget about the kiss. It was but a game."

The words slip out of my mouth without my brain's authorization. "But I liked it." Oh, chiz! Nononono. Did I just say that? Holy lawd!

"Excuse me?" he smirks, clearly amused.

"Cocky bastard."

"Pleased to be so."

"Shut up." I snap, irritation clearly evident. "But you know? I think you quite liked...er, enjoyed it, too."

"And what makes you think so?" Cocky bastard! Pfft.

I swallow everything foul, and put on my sweetest, most flirtatious voice I could put up. "Why, Severus, I do vaguely remember something poking me on the stomach that time. I didn't touch it or anything, but I bet it was really, really, really, really hard, don't you think?" I chuckle inwardly, batting my eyelashes at him.

I swear I saw him blush the slightest, but he regained composure. "I'm male. It happens."

"Pfft, right. Okay." I roll my eyes. Lawd, I'm so mature.

He looks at me like he's about to kill me.

"Oh, what do you know! We're here! Lemonz are awezome sayz me!" I say before he decides to kill me on the spot. I mentally laugh at the password. Clever man, Dumbledore.

* * *

"Take a seat, take a seat," Dumbledore says. "Cute outfit, Miss Granger. I assume it's One Direction-inspired?"

Wow, people actually notice my outfit. Wizards and witches at that. Ha ha, Dumbledore, would you believe? One Direction. Hot stuff. "Yes, Professor." I smile, and make myself at home on the comfy chair.

"I see. And what brings the both of you here?"

"I don't know." I say.

"Ah, I think it's best to head to Hogsmeade." Dumbledore suggests.

"Yes, I think so," I nod, "Severus?"

"Whatever." Mister Emo replies.

So I'm going to Hogsmeade with Snape. I don't know how I feel about that.

* * *

**A/N: OMG. Can't write a decent author's note. I'm sorry, I gtg. I'm just sneaking, you see. I've got some errands to run. Fudge you, errands! **

**REFAFO! xx**

**Oh, and I have a new story! It's in Wattpad. I'd love it if you go check it out...and maybe comment and vote? Hehe, though it's fine if you just read. It's called The Grasshopper and I.**

Here's the blurb:

_"So I was just there, eating out my happiness, and there was this grasshopper in front of me, which I've been trying to get rid of since the day before. And then this grasshopper was going sdfadssdsfs, and suddenly, he turned into a very, very HOT guy. Green eyes, baby. GREEN EYES. And he talked! HE FLIPPING TALKED! Le guy claimed I'm his "Holder" or whatever. Sure, I did hold him, when he was a grasshopper, but he said I have to break a spell. He kept rambling on about a baaad witch called Euphemia, and his luuuurrve, Alice who turned into stone or something. I don't know, I tuned out. Later on, after his excessive rambling, I found myself saying 'yes' to whatever it was I ought to say 'yes' to._

_He didn't even say, "Buckle up, baby, cause this will be a bumpy ride." And I always want that said with a swirly, sexy accent.  
No, he didn't warn me or anything. I just agreed. To my death.  
Okay, that was exaggerated. But...ugh. Just read and find out, 'kay?"  
_

_The author: I'm sorry. Penelope is throwing a fit. It's not everyday a grasshopper turns into a hot guy, no? Now, I better be going. Gotta stop a fictional character from ruining my curtains!_

**And here's the link: story/3057943-the-grasshopper-and-i**

**[Just add "w-w-w.w-a-t-t-p-a-d.c-o-m" before the whole thing and remove the dashes (only in ****"w-w-w.w-a-t-t-p-a-d.c-o-m")**. Don't remove the dashes on the suffix part of the link above ^. FFN won't display the link properly. -_-]  


**I hope the instructions were accurate? ;)**

**Yayy, thanks again! xx**

**-Nikki**


	14. Author's Note

Dear Readers,  
This fanfic is on hold till further notice.  
Why?  
Everyday, I try to write a chapter, but I end up disappointed and unsatisfied. The feeling I get when I realize I need to update already is not anticipation-when in the earlier chapters, I couldn't stand a moment without jumping on my heels, so ecstatic to update.  
It's different now.  
I mean, I could write the rest of the story, but I'm afraid my soul won't be in it.  
I don't think it's writer's block...well, maybe it is, but not the usual kind.  
When I write, I want to do the best that I can. I can't stand reading something of mine in a so-so manner.  
Haha, I'm sorry this is all scrambled up. My thoughts aren't as organized as I thought. Apologies.  
Another reason why I'm less-inspired is that my parents are having a war. Pff. And I hate it when they fight. It's highly depressing.  
My mum sleeps in my room, so I can't sneak and write. See, I usually write at night because that's when my head is loose.  
But don't worry; this fic won't be MIA for very long. Gimme a month or two, alright?  
I'm gonna miss you lot! You and your negative-positive reviews. Lol, there might only be a few in Wattpad, but I'm sure there are lots of you in Fanfiction. :)  
In the meantime, if you have nothing to do, you can go check out my other story, The Grasshopper and I. That, I will be updating frequently...or as frequently as I can. To my Fanfiction(.net) Readers, TG&I is in my Wattpad acct. Same username. PurpleCrimson23272.  
Have a wonderful day and I hope to continue this fic soon! Thanks for everything. God bless you.

Much love,  
Nix ;)


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